


Until The Very End of You

by theselittlethings



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Aquariums, Bartender Rey, Beaches, Canon Age Gap (23 and 33), Cults, Dark Magic, Depressed Ben, Dirty Talk, Dreams and Nightmares, Dreamsharing, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family Secrets, Fear of Flying, Force Bond (Star Wars), Grief/Mourning, Grinding, Happier Ending This Time, Harm to Animals, Hearing Voices, I'm Sorry Han Solo, Loneliness, Long-Distance Relationship, Lots of Scenery Description, Masturbation, Medium Burn, More Thriller Than Horror, Oral Sex, POV Alternating, Praise Kink, References to Gambling Addiction, References to Plane Crash, Sexual Tension, Side Finn/Rose - Freeform, Side Poe/Holdo, Slice of Life, Smut, Spirits, Spooky, Strained Friendships, Stream of Consciousness, Supernatural Elements, Surprise! A Multichapter Fic, Tags May Change, The Dark Side of the Force, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Visions, money problems
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 12:09:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 63,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20291218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theselittlethings/pseuds/theselittlethings
Summary: Two strangers, Rey & Ben, keep seeing one another despite a thousand miles of coast between them, forced together by a connection they can't control. They grow closer exploring this shared secret — drawn by a darkness that guides their impulses and composes their dreams. But as strange things start to happen around them, it looks more like their chance encounter and bond may not be random at all. And opens a path to an ancient magic that has intentions and secrets of its own...AND/ORA spooky and sexy modern day Force Bond story.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi there and thank you for clicking. didn't expect to do another multichapter for this ship, but this idea got stuck in my head and hasn't gone away so 🙃
> 
> expect chapter count to be less than 20 + will likely still post canonverse oneshots along the way (especially with new content coming so soon). trying out more than one thing with this fic and been having a lot of fun writing it, hope you enjoy the ride 💘 title is a lyric from "We're In This Together" by Nine Inch Nails.
> 
> P.S. will include in A/N if tags are added/changed along the way. please let me know if you feel like any are missing.
> 
> here we go 🙈

"How long do you think Finn expects me to stay?" Rey asks as they descend the small stairs to the dock. She steps ahead onto the walkway, not turning back as Rose replies,

"Only been here like a half hour." She joins Rey's side, leaning against the railing with her back facing the water. "Can think of worse ways to spend a Friday night. Without free food and drinks."

Rey tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Appealing to her stomach is usually effective. "Yeah, but I barely know Poe and —"

"Still invited you." Rose takes a sip of her drink. "Should try to stay a little longer at least. Might end up having fun."

Rey nods, decides to take Rose's word for it. They told Finn they were watching the sunset as an excuse to escape his boss's engagement party for a few minutes. She isn't entirely sure why she came, not beholden to social responsibilities like Rose is as Finn's "plus one." But it's at a nice restaurant at least, directly on the river with glass walls to keep the water in view. The wraparound porch opens up to the dock. Rey glances back to confirm Finn isn't looking for them outside. Several moored sailboats bob in the gentle waves, staggered in uneven rows. Rey gazes north, towards a series of arched bridges carrying traffic over the Intracoastal Waterway separating the city's beachside and mainland. One of the drawbridges rises for a yacht passing underneath. The sky is mostly orange, fading from grayed blue to bright yellow, casting the palm trees & mangroves at the horizon into a bold relief.

It's conventionally beautiful, a postcard of Florida paradise — and increasingly unremarkable given how many times Rey has seen it in the past couple years.

"Yeah, might be fun," she says with a shrug, recalling Poe's affable exuberance from the handful of times they've interacted. A party all on his own, almost comically at ease. Rose turns to watch the water too, takes another drink in Rey's periphery.

"What are you having?"

"It's, uh…" Rose swirls her glass. "Prosecco."

"In a flute?" Rey shakes her head. "Place charges twice as much for a mixed drink and serves prosecco in the wrong glass."

"Tastes just as good."

A low horn blows, jarring their attention to the drawbridge coming down. Rey spots some blurry figures moving on the yacht and peeks down to her own worn silver-laced sandals. She fingers a thread along the hem of her tan sundress, her loose sequined bracelet falling down to her wrist. She's never been on a boat that big, aside from one of Poe's tours. A woman in a wide-brimmed hat waves to someone unseen on shore.

"Speaking of bubbly, you see the name of that boat?" Rose sidles closer, nudges her arm.

Rey scans the dock. "What? _Champagne Shoulders_?"

"No, the sunfish right next to it, _Sparkling Titties_."

She spots it, eyes widening as she snickers, "No fucking way —"

"Hey!" Finn calls as he descends the stairway. Rose waves playfully when he approaches with a harried expression.

Finn keeps his voice low. "You guys can't leave me in there defenseless like this."

"What, Poe not giving you enough shots?" Rose teases.

"Not enough to get through the dolphin pod story again," Finn replies.

Rose pats his back, takes another sip. "More people coming?"

"Yeah, in and out." Finn starts walking back before giving anyone a chance to respond, gesturing for them to follow when they linger by the railway.

"We're coming, we're coming," Rose laughs. She cinches down her tightly-fitting skirt with one hand, winks before joining Finn.

_Might be fun,_ Rey reminds herself as she goes, biting the skin behind her lip. All the tables on the porch are occupied despite the party going on inside. Loud voices and laughter pour out when Finn opens the door, a blast of cold air cuts through the humidity. A circle of people are gathered by the bar in the middle of the reserved dining room. Some others pick at hors d'oeuvres laid out on lacquered wooden tables along one side, stand between booths in smaller conversations. The low lighting makes it seem later than it is, soften the dimming sunset's shadows across the floor. Rey expected it to be more crowded given the stories she's heard about Poe. But she spots him by the bar with a broad grin, engaging everyone around him with another animated tale. He doesn't seem to notice or mind.

"…First time I'd seen one." Poe holds his hands up to gauge the length as they blend into the group surrounding him. "Blacktip shark, not full-grown yet, looking at my board like a fresh meal…"

Rey isn't sure she's ever seen Poe button his shirt more than halfway and tonight is no exception. His hair is styled cleanly, more kempt than she expected without a hat. He wears pressed khakis and loafers, dressed more casual than most of his guests. Even Finn had come with a gray sports jacket over his black shirt and dark pants. Rey feels oddly informal in her sundress nonetheless, hopes the sandals and costume jewelry are semi-convincing. Not that anyone is paying attention to her really, either laughing with Poe or obviously avoiding meeting his fiancée's eyes.

It's not that there's anything wrong with her exactly. Finn asked on the ride over if Rey had ever met Amilyn before. She hadn't, asked what she's like. _Not what you would expect_ is all he said, but somehow that sums it up perfectly — She's older than Poe. Significantly older and significantly taller too, with purple hair cut bluntly at her chin. She carries herself with a quiet elegance that Rey wishes she could emulate. Her wine dress rests snugly on her slim frame, accentuating her long graceful limbs and severe lines. Poe keeps an arm wrapped around Amilyn's waist, she grins and leans into his embrace. Offers her own commentary in a steady soft voice that makes everyone stop to hear. She's striking, and far more reserved than her betrothed.

Rey knows there's something she's missing. Amilyn isn't what she expected, sure, but there's a tension in everyone's stilted posture that she doesn't quite understand.

"Welcome back, welcome back," Poe greets after wrapping up, leaving Amilyn's side to slap Finn's back. He gives Rose a peck on the cheek, offers Rey his hand and gives hers a firm shake. "Enjoying the spread so far?"

"Yeah." Rey forces herself to return his warm smile. "Really good."

"Great spot for a party," Rose adds.

"Wonderful, that's what we want to hear." Poe sweeps his arm to indicate the room at large when he adds, "Want everybody to celebrate, to share in our happiness."

"Here, here," Finn says with a nod. One of the guys in the circle repeats it and takes a drink.

Finn raises a finger, mouths "one second," steps away to flag the bartender. Rey crosses her arms again, watches the sun disappear through the windows over Amilyn's shoulder. For a second Rey thinks Poe is waving at her before realizing it's intended for someone behind her.

"Hey, look who's here!" Poe shouts.

Rey follows his gaze to the doorway, spots a tall man in black clothing entering the dining room. His dark hair falls below his chin, covers most of his angular face as he waits by the hostess stand.

Poe calls to him again. "Ben!"

The man looks up, acknowledging Poe with a nod. He whispers something to the hostess, slides his hands in his pockets and hesitates before coming over to the bar.

"Thought you couldn't make it," Poe says, scooting down to open a space beside him.

Their handshake is visibly stiff. Ben's low voice cuts through the ambient conversation in the room, "Had to see it for myself."

Poe chuckles, slaps his back nonetheless. Ben leans over to extend his hand to Amilyn. She tilts her head, speaking gently, "Good to see you."

Ben's tone is too sweet to be genuine. It darkens his already hardened features. "So do I call you Amilyn now? Or Ms. Holdo still?"

She chuckles, brings her other hand up to hold Ben's a moment longer. "Whichever you prefer."

The interaction only heightens the silent unease. This is getting a little weird already, and Rey doesn't really know anyone here. She frowns when she sees the platters cleared from the tables. Checks her small square purse at her hip, hanging from a long leather band slung over her shoulder. Wonders if checking her phone would make it too obvious that she wants to leave.

Finn returns with two pints of beer, silently passes one to Rey. He raises his eyebrows towards the bar like he overheard… whatever that was too.

"Who's that?" Rose whispers.

"Dunno," Finn replies. "Ben, apparently."

"Nice spot to play sea captain," Ben remarks with a confident air.

"No playing." Poe swirls the tequila in his glass. "Real operation. Four boats running tours. Renting catamarans, kayaks, canoes, got the tourists, the bored locals. Looking at opening another spot on the St. John's River. Got almost the whole crew here to celebrate —"

Ben keeps glancing back at Amilyn as Poe introduces everyone in the circle. ("My captain Snap here, his first mate Jess, Cova Nell handles safety & inspections, Minneau's got the food truck…") Ben obviously isn't listening, seems to be searching for something in their faces that he can't place. Rey notices the size of his hand when he taps loudly on the bar, the thick silver band he wears on his fourth finger inlaid with three smoothed-down jades.

"…And Finn here runs the office, keeps everything afloat. His first mate Rose, and his partner in crime Rey," Poe concludes, reaching the end of the circle.

"Looks like a great crew," Ben comments. He considers Poe's appearance more closely, shifting his jaw. "And look at you. A real Florida Man."

"A decade next year." Poe winks. "Should've come earlier."

A couple seconds pass. Ben doesn't respond. Rose elbows Rey, presses her lips to a line. Poe continues right before the silence turns awkward, picking back up without missing a beat,

"Seriously though, glad you could make it. It's good to see you." 

"You too." Ben knocks the bar with his ring, signals the bartender.

Poe's smile is unusually sheepish. He shifts his hand on Amilyn's side, brings her nearer. He looks to his feet before turning to Finn with a shrug.

"…Someone from home, I guess," Finn murmurs. "Haven't seen him at the dock."

Rose brings her glass up to cover her mouth. "Knows Amilyn too? Isn't she from West Palm?"

"Think it was Connecticut before that too."

Rey checks the patio behind her. The hostess holds the door open, leading an elderly couple to one of the tables outside. Silverware clatters & clinks as a busboy enters the kitchen with a full dishbin. Rey scans the illustrated maps displayed on the walls, tries to ignore the awkward heaviness settling in the room. Maybe she can text one of her coworkers, Kaydel is usually hanging out somewhere in town —

Ben's voice rings loudly again. "So how long have you two been…"

He doesn't finish the sentence, instead holding out his glass towards the betrothed. The lime on Ben's glass is shredded at the seam. A part of Rey hates that she can't help detecting small flaws in the drinks. After working at a bar for the past year it's more impulse than intentional scrutiny. She usually only trusts her own hands as a general rule, if her twice done-over coupe parked at home wasn't enough evidence already.

Poe and Amilyn observe Ben expectantly, but neither reply. Rose elbows Rey again, leans to mutter in her ear, "Is that her ex? Or —"

"Maybe?" Rey has no clue.

"Poe didn't mention there'd be drama for entertainment."

Finn scratches the back of his neck, smiles at Rose. She lays her palm on his spine, trails her fingers down to lace them with his. Rey starts downing her pint, keeps sipping slowly as Ben clears his throat and tries again.

"Didn't see you two together up north last year."

"Heh." Poe runs his fingers through his hair, looks to Amilyn like he's asking a silent question before replying to Ben. "Didn't feel like the right time to make our first showing."

"Yeah." Ben clears his throat. "Big premiere at a funeral would be a little tacky."

Almost everyone in the circle is observing Ben with a guarded curiosity like they're worried he'll strike. Amilyn murmurs something to a woman standing beside her. Rey bites her lip, realizes she's chugged half her beer. Finn seems just as uncomfortable as she is, but Rose's eyes glitter with a morbid excitement.

"And now — here were are. To celebrate." Poe takes on a singsong tone like he's trying to change the subject. "With old friends and new."

Ben raises his eyebrows and then his drink, leaning into the middle of the circle. The harsh edge in his hurried motions increases that cringing sense of foreboding, unsettles Rey's stomach. Amilyn freezes. Poe straightens his shoulders.

"To _old friends_," Ben toasts. Rey looks down to fidget with her purse again when their gazes briefly meet. "To old friends finding happiness in each other's arms. To fond memories of our mothers' book club, of the gazebo in _Ms. Holdo's_ backyard…" Rey halts her movements. "And to a bright future together. Congratulations to you both."

Yikes. Rey tries to maintain a stoic expression, can see that Amilyn is clearly uncomfortable. Poe roughly kisses her cheek, holds her close, smiles brightly back at Ben like nothing happened at all. But it can't salvage the obviously changed tone.

"Thank you, Ben," Poe replies. "Endless summer. Open waters. Beautiful woman to come home to." He drapes his arm below Amilyn's shoulders. "Future's never been brighter. Glad you could come celebrate."

"— You think he rehearsed that?" Rose jokes. Finn just shrugs. He holds Rose's hand a little tighter. Rey's feels cold against her glass. She follows Ben's cue when he starts downing his drink. Half the others standing there do too.

Ben walks away to another side of the bar. The conversations pick up again, but more quiet and withdrawn. Rey's pretty sure she pieced together what the guy said correctly, chest tightening when Poe approaches them and mutters to Finn,

"Don't mind him. Ben Solo's always been dramatic."

Finn tries to come up with something to say. "Is he, uh, always like —"

"Sort of yes, sort of no," Poe waffles. "Going's rough for him now too. That was the guy, when I flew up north last year."

Finn nods somberly. "Well, hey, great party so far —"

Poe steps away, smiling widely when he turns to announce, "Here we are…" He points to the servers setting down platters on the line of tables. "First course is arriving, let's grab some forks and dig in —"

Amilyn links her arm with Poe's as he passes. They saunter over to the food with the same confident poise they had when Rey first wandered in, mostly unmoved by Ben's scene. Some other people follow, including Finn, who tugs Rose to come along. Leaving Rey alone, as they tend to eventually. A pair on their own, closer to one another than they are to her now.

Rey sighs and chugs the last of her beer, covers her mouth when she burps. She sidles up to the bar, checks the time on her phone. Her hip bumps the empty chair beside her. Rey shakes her head, blushing as she clambers up into its high seat. The tables are too crowded to see the spread, she bends back to get a better look when a couple shuffle down the row —

"Two this time."

Rey flinches hearing Ben's deep voice, nearly drops her phone as she puts it back in her purse. She spins to face him, throat going dry when she realizes he wasn't speaking to her. He stands next to the empty chair beside her, seems taller up close. He's stern even in profile, frowning beneath humorless eyes.

"Great time, huh?"

He says it to himself, but Rey glares at his dark floppy hair and casual posture. Even though the circumstances are… unusual, he didn't have to come at all. Could have aired his grievances behind closed doors. Poe is a nice enough guy. Rey can't understand why someone would be so unnecessarily cruel. Words are falling from her lips before her mind has time to catch up,

"Yeah, it is actually," Rey lies, adding some bland compliments to sound more convincing. "Gorgeous night. Gorgeous spot —"

"A great time?" he scoffs.

"— Yeah."

He returns her scowl, studying her features with a detached curiosity. "Really great. Beautiful couple. Long beautiful life ahead of them."

His gaze is intense despite the air of indifference. Rey shifts in her seat. She'd probably find him attractive if he wasn't such a jerk. What a waste.

She scrunches her nose. "Are you… being sarcastic?"

"Does it matter?"

The bartender places two shotglasses in front of Ben, fills them with middle-grade gin. The jerk tips well at least. Drinks one down immediately. Finn and Rose probably haven't checked where she is at all. Even though she's alone. Rey's stomach drops as she needles Ben more, reminding her she shouldn't instigate strangers but…

"You — You regularly attend parties just to be sour?" It doesn't sound as scathing aloud as it does in her head.

"Sour?" he repeats loftily.

That does it.

"An asshole," Rey retorts. "Go to parties just to be an asshole."

Ben leans closer. He smells better than she expects, his cologne sharpened by a sheen of sweat. Rey crosses her ankles unconsciously, chides herself for noticing. He glances to her lips before returning to her narrowed eyes.

"How's it your problem? You one of Dameron's 'crew?'"

"No," Rey answers. "Just someone who learned her manners."

He doesn't intimidate her. She's seen plenty worse. But her chest tightens again, flustered by his unblinking stare. 

"Her _manners,_" Ben echoes, wavering enough for Rey to tell he's feeling the gin. "That's all fine and good. Known Dameron since elementary. _Amilyn_ too."

Rey keeps pressing. "So you showed up why? To make a point?"

"Like I said. To see for myself."

Rey rolls her eyes. "You sound like a real piece of work."

"— You here with someone?"

"What?" He catches her off-guard.

Rey checks the seat on her other side, now occupied by a woman and her very large purse. The way he taps the bar when she spins back is doubly irritating.

"No, I'm not here with —"

"No wonder," he remarks. "If this is how you usually introduce yourself."

Oh wow. Rey snaps right back. _"Fuck off."_

"Gladly."

She doesn't realize how close he is until he staggers away to grab his second shot. His motions are sloppy, just too wide when he sweeps his hand up and grazes Rey's bared upper arm — 

"Shit!" Rey yelps, gritting her teeth.

— His touch burns. Ben startles from her exclamation, spilling half his shot to the floor. She gapes at the pink streak below her shoulder, mouth dropped open as she stammers,

"W- What the —"

He gulps the rest of his drink, slams the glass down without any apology or hint of concern. Rey chews her lip when the mark stings with a warmth beneath her trembling fingertips.

"A real piece of work!" Rey shouts at his back as he storms away.

Her skin is hot. Like he'd rubbed acid onto his ring, or she's allergic to the material. She blows on it lightly, mind racing as she regains her bearings. Will probably be fine in a few minutes, probably just… overreacting from being touched. Rey blames her nerves and impulsivity for the physical sensation. Goosebumps flare down her limbs.

"Did you need a…"

The bartender's taking away Ben's glasses. Rey drops her hand and nods. "Yeah. One shot here too."

She smooths her hair with a sigh. Poe greets a group of late arrivals at the door. Rey keeps her back turned and watches the sky darken above the trees. Spots Finn and Rose cutting across the porch to go down to the dock. Fuck this. Rey counts to three before swallowing her drink. The gin makes her throat tingle like it's being scratched by pine needles. She squeezes her eyes shut. Should have ordered rum instead.

"Had anything to eat yet?"

Rey blinks. Her cheeks flush hearing Poe right beside her where Ben was before. "Not yet."

"Fish tacos, hummus, sweet potato fries, all sorts of good stuff." Poe tilts his head. "Make sure to grab a plate, want everyone to have a good time tonight."

She knows he means well. "I… have been."

Poe chuckles lightly before bringing his voice down to a more serious tone, "Sorry if Ben was bothering you."

"It's — It's fine." Even though she confronted him. "Wasn't like —"

Thankfully Poe picks up again so she doesn't have to finish the thought. "Anyway, have fun. Relax. We're here to celebrate." He flashes a lopsided grin. "Rey… Finn's like my family. And you're his family so — enjoy. You're here with good people. Celebrating with family."

Again she tells herself he means well. No matter how ironic his syrupy speech might be. She raises her empty shotglass and Poe knocks on the bar, just like Ben did.

"— And, hey, it's on me." He winks before pivoting to leave.

Rey takes the suggestion and beelines for the food. The edges of her vision blur pleasantly, her legs feel rubbery from her buzz. The meal is decent, but nothing extraordinary. She sneaks to a corner to text Kaydel. Goes to the bar to have another shot (rum this time). The burn on her arm doesn't dissipate, still flares even when she rubs it very gently. Rey wobbles and angles her elbow to get a better look, head swimming too fast for her to concentrate on the spot.

The phone pings in her bag. Her stomach churns reading Kaydel's response. She isn't around. Out in Orlando tonight.

The dining room gets louder & looser as the drinks flow more steadily. Servers lay out a second course of meals on the tables. Rey stands next to Finn and Rose as they hold hands, cracking jokes and making references with his coworkers. It seems like they barely notice her at all. The scene wears on Rey quickly. At one point she sees Ben tap Poe's shoulder. The men whisper and Poe pats Ben's back.

Her gaze meets Ben's one last time before he disappears. To fly up north and be cold & miserable somewhere. Far away from her and everything here.

Disappearing sounds nice to her too. Rey hails a cab from her phone, should be here in less than ten minutes to take her home.

She clears her throat, tugs on Rose's sleeve. "Hey, I'm — I'm gonna go."

Finn leans over. "You sure you're okay to —"

"Yeah, getting a ride." She stuffs her phone back away, straightens her dress and her purse. "Gonna go wait outside."

Poe marches over with Amilyn to bid farewell too. Must have noticed her body language across the room. "Leaving so soon?"

"Work tomorrow." Well, not until evening, but it makes for a decent excuse.

"Of course, of course." Poe keeps talking as Amilyn shakes her hand. "Thank you for coming, Rey —"

"Thank you," Amilyn chimes in, eyes glimmering above a knowing grin. Rey's fingers tense when she releases her grip.

"— Can we expect to see you at the ceremony?"

"Yeah, for sure," she rushes, checking the door.

"Don't be a stranger," Poe insists. Amilyn nods in agreement. "You're welcome to visit our crew any time."

"Your, uh —" He really never does drop the act. "Thank you. Congratulations again. Thanks for inviting me." Rey hopes her smile seems genuine. She turns to Rose and Finn. "Have fun, I'll — I'll see you soon."

They wave as she steps away from the group, folding her arms and hurrying for the exit. Rey gasps for breath outside, inhales deeply to taste the clean sea-salted air. Some stars flicker high above the halo of lamplight from the bridges. She clicks her tongue. Ride isn't here yet.

She spins around hearing the door open behind her, drops her arms bashfully upon recognizing Finn. "Hey," he says, hands in his pockets as he joins her side. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she answers automatically. "Just tired."

Finn raises his eyebrows like he doesn't believe her. He's known her long enough to tell. "Did something —"

"No… just tired," Rey insists, rising on tiptoes to see if the SUV turning into the parking lot is the right color.

"It wasn't —"

"— Wasn't anything in particular," she replies, looking Finn in the eye. "Really." Her phone vibrates as her ride pulls up.

"Alright. Just making sure." His wave is limp. Rey smiles uneasily and walks away.

"Text me when you're back," he calls after her. One thing he still does from when they were younger. Long before they decided to take a leap of faith together and move over a thousand miles to make this place their new home.

"Will do," Rey says before closing the door.

The ride isn't too long, only hitting a few lights as they take the main road towards the sea. Rey rolls down her window halfway, rests her head back to feel the wind cool her cheeks. The driver turns to take a backroad running parallel to the shore, stops short at a dark intersection when a group of young men stagger into the road.

"Sorry —"

Rey doesn't react. The streetlamps grow more scarce leaving the main drag of town. Highrise condos and surf shops shrink into well-manicured homes crowded along the shore. Her road is a couple blocks back from the water, within walking distance of the beach. Technically close enough to bike to work, though she very rarely does. The cab's headlights illuminate the cars parked in their spots underneath the elevated three-family house sitting on stilts. He stays as she ascends the stairs, waits until she reaches the top to leave.

She texts Finn when she arrives as she promised. Throws her purse on the couch and kicks off her sandals in her little square bedroom. Drinks a glass of water in the kitchenette along one side of the open-plan living room. Her apartment is small. White walls, tile floors, a handful of decorations to make it seem more like her own. Still feels strange to fall asleep here after only two months. Rey checks the time on the microwave. It's a bit early but she leaves the lights off anyways. Has another glass of water. Peels her sundress over her head and hangs it on her closet door before brushing her teeth.

She appreciates the privacy after renting that house with Rose for two years. But sometimes it feels lonely. When Rey & Finn moved down here from Des Moines together, she knew they'd drift apart. Even after high school together in the same foster home, it was only a matter of time more than circumstance. They found their places to live, ways to make money, and kept in touch through it all —

But one day they wouldn't be kids anymore. Tonight made it… clearer somehow. Initially she was thrilled when her best friend and roommate hit it off. When Finn secured a stable job with a chill boss and a condo to buy with Rose.

Rey's on her third gig, quit her art class, still posts ads to repair cars & motorcycles on Craigslist, hasn't gotten laid since that one Tindr date over a year ago. Reminds herself she can do whatever she likes living alone. Including sleep naked on top of her sheets with the window propped open to let the ocean breeze drift in and kiss her heated skin. It only takes a couple minutes to pass out and put her mind to rest.

✖❌✖❌

Ben pushes his sunglasses up on the bridge of his nose as the monorail jerks to start. He overdid it last night, still squints behind his shades when the cab leaves its tunnel to travel between the airport's terminals. The runways glare more than they should under the huge spotless blue skies. He watches the palm trees outlining the horizon instead of the taxiing planes, senses every tiny bump on the train. Reminds himself this is why he rarely drinks at all anymore.

No amount of regret will make the aspirin more effective — or the sun less oppressive. He supposes he should feel bad for starting shit at Poe's party, but… it _is_ strange. To go from hiding behind skirts at your mother's book club to hiking them up for her old friends. Ben remembers Ms. Holdo's backyard fairly well, with the white gazebo surrounded by beds of wildflowers. How he and Poe would stand in the kitchen and make lemonade. Literal children back then. Old enough to be her lovers now.

Said Ben could have visited earlier, but it's not like the guy ever bothered to contact him either. Not until he heard about the Cessna crashing last year. To offer his condolences and let him know he was making arrangements to fly up north.

His stomach flips hearing engines pick up, churning to higher power before approaching the runway to take flight. Ben cringes at the unconscious response, tells himself it's unwarranted after being comfortable in the air for how many years…

He dismisses it by returning to how this trip was mostly a waste of time. How he's still not totally sure why he came at all. Ben recalls rereading the invitation three times, scrolling up and down the image-heavy email to make sure _that_ was what he had really seen. He twisted his ring and rationalized his morbid curiosity with simple fact: he needed to get out more anyways.

Not unlike he does now, fiddling with the jade-inlaid circle as he remembers walking to the beach that morning. His heavy head aching and his stomach churning in time with the waves. The sun rose over the ocean, glimmered over the water as the smell of salt & seaweed thickened in his nose. For some seconds he forgot the next set of meetings only several days away. Nice change in scenery.

The monorail lurches to slow towards its stop. Ben takes a deep breath, runs a hand through his hair. Only a couple hours then he lands in JFK, he tells himself. He'll crawl into the back of a car, watch the highways narrow and curve as they drive further away from New York City. Dip up & down hills on winding roads cut through centuries of old-growth trees. Be taken back to the house with its silent hallways and carpeted rooms of half-packed boxes.

Just has to get through this short trip first. Miles above the ground.

A canned speech drones from the speakers as Ben exits the cab. His throat dries as he marches to his gate.

✖❌✖❌

Rey doesn't wake up until after noon, surprises herself resting so long when she went to bed early enough the night before. Her senses are dulled, though she isn't hungover. She takes a long shower. Only has a few hours before work, spends most of it listening to music as she stares at the ceiling fan and the lines of dust collecting on its blades.

Time passes more quickly than usual. Rey focuses on her motions as she turns her steering wheel, wipes down the bar, tilts pint glasses to create perfect heads of foam on the tops of countless drinks. The crowd isn't as large as usual for a Saturday night. But it keeps her busy enough to miss the sunset's colors through the huge windows overlooking the ocean. Bartending hasn't been her favorite job, though she does like that this place is right on the beach.

Closing comes and goes. Another day passes without anything to preserve in her memories. Rey returns much later than she did the night before, with a groggy head & heavy limbs after spending hours on her feet. She wonders if Finn and Rose get that same listless feeling when they unlock their front door and enter their condo. Or if they smile at their half-made bed, shared laundry baskets, and see it as their home.

She leaves all the lights off again. Watches a movie on her tablet, starts falling asleep. A car passes on the street, its loud music drifts off and Rey tries to tune her ears to the ocean, even though it's just too far to hear its waves —

Her body sinks into the mattress as nighttime turns to dark choppy waters. Tugs back until the beach is visible, pulls up until she recognizes the jagged outline of Florida's coast. She bends forward to see the land around the top of a long white mechanical wing. Spots the jet engine. The little frame of a porthole window. She leans back on a fabric chair, stares at the upright tray table. A patch of turbulence bumps the fuselage. Her pulse races as she tightens her grip on the armrests. Faintly she hears someone ask,

_…Are you okay?_

She nods, but she doesn't really know.

Another burst of movement ignites her nerves. The seat drops from underneath. Her breaths halt and eyes peel open —

— to quiet footsteps pacing her apartment, coming towards her door. Her bedroom ceiling drifts into focus as she lies half-asleep, her mind trudging to a dazed awareness. She turns to check the time, spies a tall silhouette standing by the closet —

Rey startles awake, sits upright with a gasp.

She blinks and exhales slowly, stares at the walls of her empty room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you to [SaveTheSpaceWhales](https://archiveofourown.org/users/awishman) and [weddersins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weddersins) for taking a look at this first chapter. Ch 2 is already drafted, should have it up soonish after getting further into Ch 3 🙂 Find me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/theselittlefics) 💗 Thanks for reading


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for your feedback on Ch1 💌 Excited to have you along for the ride. Here goes:

Ben rubs his eyes, stirred awake by light glaring off the window in the den. His neck hurts. His blanket's tangled at his feet. He doesn't recognize the movie on TV. Didn't make it to the bedroom again. Forgot to charge his phone.

No reason for this day to start any differently, he supposes. It's already almost noon. He scratches his neck, turns off the screen. Finishes the glass of water he left on the coffee table.

The house is quiet. Clouds cross over the sun, darkening the patterned wallpaper. That designer suggested taking it down. The entire wall separating the den from the dining room too. Rip up all the carpet upstairs. He shuffles into the kitchen, continues tallying all the flaws to remedy. But that was before Ben found the hole in the roof, before the furnace went out, and before he had to get the oil tank filled all winter.

He moves the cereal bowl he left out from the island to the pile of dirty dishes in the sink. Closes two opened cabinets. Checks the lock on the sliding glass door to the patio that wraps around to the den. This room is mostly untouched still. The last number his mother jotted down is on the notepad by the answering machine. Some expired coupons and outdated invitations hang from the branches of the tree-shaped bulletin board he made in shop class when he was young.

Ben spent a decade avoiding his past and now lives in a hollow version of it. The irony isn't lost on him, even more intrusive after his southern detour. He was only supposed to move back to Connecticut for "a little while." Put in his notice at the job he intended to quit already. Only had a month left on his lease in NYC. Find something else to do, find somewhere else to stay, take this _event_ as a signal to rearrange his life how he sees fit.

None of that happened. Could have had the house and the rest gone by now. Be rid of his family completely like he had wanted.

Almost a year. Maybe it was worth seeing Poe just for the jarring reminder.

Ben told Chewie he'd cover a few hours on the counter today. Pulls himself together to go out in his usual haze. His old dresser is still in the "guest room," but they replaced the bed frame. The tiny stain on the ceiling by the closet remains. He pulls on black slacks and a charcoal cotton tee, just like he did picking up shifts in high school. Started doing it again when he lost track of the days.

He notices the lines beneath his eyes when he washes his face. He still hasn't told Chewie or the rest of them. Won't have much of a choice soon. 

Today he feels more restless than listless, has no desire to linger any longer. He grabs a Red Bull, the car keys, and leaves the house immediately.

Even the main roads here are narrow single lanes bending sharply through thick woods, with homes dropped into (or sometimes onto) widely-spaced lots. Ben knows the drive well, at times loses focus listening to music. He didn't have a car in the City, still uses his mother's Mercedes. Idly wonders if she knew about the banks when she went to the dealership and bought it. How much she paid attention when she was out working and buying handbags, not thinking to check on anything.

Or if Chewie had some inkling of what was going on with the diner. Can still put off thinking about that for another several days.

The diner is a couple miles from the main part of town, soon after the streets widen & flatten with gas stations and drive-throughs. First time Ben came back he thought the inside would be updated like the shopping mall's exterior. Aside from the front sign & window, everything stayed mostly the same. Tan walls with framed racing posters, cars and horses and some scenery photos of Atlantic City. Booths lining the walls on one side, long counter on the other with square four-tops & two-tops in between. Still posting hand-written tickets in the kitchen, still using an old-fashioned cash register, still staffing fickle locals & summering college students. Business stays regular though and Ben can see his father's logic in not tinkering too far. His father reprinted the menus, added soy milk, changed the silverware, covered the drop-tile ceiling. Not much else. _Consistent and casual,_ he'd say to his mother when she suggested changing the theme. Consistent enough to continue running smoothly despite Han Solo being gone for almost a year. 

Ben nods to the server crossing through an aisle with a tray of empty glasses. Staff ignores him mostly, which suits Ben perfectly fine. He goes behind the counter, mumbles "excuse me" to a busboy that greets him as he squeezes by to the kitchen. Chewie grunts with his back turned, busy completing orders with a newer cook Ben doesn't recognize. Ben grabs an apron, buries the heaviness in his chest, and easily falls into mindless routine. 

Closing out tables at the register, wiping down the counter, refilling dressings, to go orders, all the little things that keep the diner going. Chewie's been here for over two decades, easily picked up running the show right where his father left off. And still Han Solo saw it as a good bet behind closed doors. Somehow it bothers Ben less when he's actually here — concentrating on following the motions instead of the wider scene.

Only ends up being a few hours. Ben sorts the stack of mail in the office-closet, still refuses to sit in his father's high-backed swivel chair. None of them have any idea that the beloved Han Solo was so cavalier about their paychecks. One thing for his father to dry his own pockets and his own family — but to be so careless about all these people relying on him, to confirm Ben's worst suspicions all along — 

Dwelling too long will only frustrate him more. He sits in the driver's seat, still parked, stirs himself from his thoughts. He starts the car, adjusts the rearview mirror. Watches his eyes widen spotting someone standing inches behind his trunk.

Ben gasps, nearly hits his head on the top of the car. He glares at the figure in the reflection, turns on the radio to signal them to move. Not in the mood for this. He shoves the door open and storms out,

"Hey, I'm trying to…"

No one there. The music churns low against the sound of his rapid heartbeat in his ears. Ben darts to look around, confirms he's alone in this part of the lot.

His pulse refuses to slow, overly aware of his building anger and unsettled nerves. He shakes out his hands, gets back in the car. Rolls down the window and keeps his mind blank on his ride. Maybe Poe has the right idea about playing sea captain on the beach.

Almost a year. How did he let it get this long.

✖❌✖❌

Rey doesn't want to come in an hour early to cover for Kaydel, but says yes to her text anyway. Spends most of it slicing garnishes and prepping the back, stretching out how long it takes. The time passes quickly again even though tables are slow, with only the usuals lingering at the bar and a few four-tops coming in for burgers before dusk. None of her coworkers even notice when she says she's going out for her break.

The beach is literally a few feet away from the door. Rey shields her eyes from a plume of sand whipped up by a strong breeze, flicks the strands of hair sticking to her mouth. She leaves on her shoes and stares south at the high-rise condos ribboning off to disappear in a haze. A group of teenagers boogie-board in wetsuits. A man with faded tattoos and a metal detector passes by. Some people sit in lounge-chairs. A couple kids build lopsided sandcastles next to the water, still too cold for most to go wading in.

Rey crosses her arms, inhales deeply through her nose. Music drifts down from the street, all the notes blending together into a low static, staying in her ears instead of dimming like a car pulling away. She wets her lips, continues watching the tide. An unsettling sensation chills her spine like she's being observed, a gaze on her back from the top of the stairs. She hesitates another beat, waiting for it to stop —

Rey spins around with a glare. The static drops to silence beneath her racing pulse. Nothing seems out of place. She glances up at the bar, a pink painted concrete block with a big bright sign and line of planted palm trees. Only three more hours before clocking out.

The rest of her shift is uneventful. Rey hurries out despite having nothing planned. Runs a couple errands to have a completely empty tomorrow, muses whether to call someone or leave it at this for today. She drives without music, still drums on the steering wheel of her car. Itches the mark on her arm at a red light, the skin flaking at the edges like a healing sunburn.

It bothers Rey enough that she smears it with lotion when she gets home. Nearly falls tripping over her sneakers as she blows on it walking through the living room. She slumps on her couch with a soda, scrolls event listings online and sees nothing she'd want to attend alone. Finn answers quickly when she texts him and sends back a predictable response,

_Can't tonight._   
_Driving out to Tampa._   
_Be back in 2 days._

It's not totally random. Rose's sister Paige lives out there. Rey sighs setting down her phone. "See you soon" gets longer every time.

Rey doesn't mind being alone. When she was young and bouncing among different houses, she'd hide away in closets and read under the covers of her bed. When she had her closet-sized rented room, she played loud music in the stretches of time she wasn't out. Down here she slept naked on the couch when Rose spent days away from their house, just because she could. Being solitary felt like a gift to enjoy, a rare privilege to savor. Never too quiet or… detached, as if everyone grew up and left her behind at home. She reminds herself it's okay to be idle sometimes, to watch the blades on her ceiling fan again and kill time until she can't think of anything to do.

Her bedroom seems darker than usual that night. The patch of sky in the window is almost black with clouds obscuring the moon & stars, with the vacation house next door vacant again. Rey lies on top of her covers in her tank and loose sleep shorts. Rests her palm on her chest and counts her breaths waiting for them to slow. Her body disrupts her mind's desire to shut off, restless over something Rey can't define. She wriggles her toes, flips onto her back. Slides her hand lower beneath the waistband of her shorts, lets her knees fall open as she closes her eyes.

Her hair is soft, catching to the cotton fibers of her underwear as she senses the heat of her skin. Lightly she grazes aside the hood over her clit, shuddering when she flinches against the nub. She shifts her hips lower to widen her entrance and wet her fingertips dipping them in. Drags up her flushed borders, tenses from their sensitivity — 

Rey bites her lip, rubs over her clit in slick circles that make her shiver. Fidgets as she imagines tightening around something hard between her thighs. Lately she falls asleep more often than getting off. Her limbs and shoulders sink into the sheets, weighed by the same heaviness blooming warmly in her cunt. The gray spots behind her eyelids spread as her movements go limp.

…A part of her stays aware, discerns the outline of a deeper black in the darkness. Shaped like a human figure, kneeling before her parted legs and drawing closer. That same heat circuits through her body sensing it observing her tiny motions carefully, ignited by its stare, still building even though she can't feel her hands. She relaxes onto her back, sighing as she lets her cunt wilt open to accept its entry — wrapping around a rigid form that curls up like a pair of digits, that lengthens to touch every inch inside, that bobs forward with steady pumps to fill her gently — 

Her mouth drops open, chest too tight to let out any sound. She tries to prop up on her elbows to peer into where a face should be, knows she locks eyes with something aware of her gaze. Rey can't see it or herself, rolls her hips weightlessly and falls into the emptiness surrounding her as she gets hotter and closer and…

Her bedroom ceiling is gray, brightening from the first light of sunrise. A couple hours left before her alarm. She holds still with the sheets tangled between her legs. Her heart pounds realizing her underwear is slick, _near_ against her entrance. Rey slinks her hand down, inhales sharply feeling her wetness when she rubs herself again. She doesn't remember her dream, but imagines a darkness seeping beneath her skin & slotting inside her. She squeezes her eyes shut and circles faster, panting in her empty room. A tight nervousness heightens her climax, swells in her ribs when she pictures her display being seen.

Her cheeks flush with some shame from the thought but she comes hard enough that soon she doesn't care. Rey turns on her side, lips turned up with a smirk as she falls back asleep.

Worse ways to begin the morning, she figures, even though she isn't excited for this one to start.

The buzzer sounds and Rey feels well-rested enough. Yawns and stretches her arms, scratches the mark and notices it's just starting to fade. She showers, makes frozen waffles, keeps her thoughts blankly focused on the steps to prepare for her day. Usually she looks forward to her weekly volunteer hours at the marine conservation & education center, though today she has gift shop duty and standing there for an afternoon never feels like less than a million years. Rey putters around her little home, puts on coffee and then her jeans with another logo t-shirt. Throws together a bag on her unmade bed, ties her hair up in three buns to keep it off her neck. Checks the long mirror hanging on the back of her bedroom door to smooth down flyaways, reopens it to the living room to return to her coffee and — 

There's a dark-haired man sitting on her couch. Tall with his back turned, resting one long arm on the backrest and staring at the wildlife posters on her wall.

Rey freezes. Every nerve in her body flares with defensive instinct. Her breaths collapse to silence in her constricted throat, eyes widening as she checks the front door. Still locked. She didn't hear anyone come inside.

Her pulse thumps loudly waiting for the man to stir. He picks up his arm, runs his hand through his hair. Her hand shakes reaching for the baseball bat leaning next to her closet door.

He straightens like he heard something. Like he heard _her._ Rey swallows hard, furrows her brows, and tightens her grip on her weapon before he can fully turn to see her face —

"Get the fuck out of my house!"

— The bat swings up as Rey screams, a second too late to evade his detection.

_THWACK_

The man ducks from the sofa, topples to the ground. The old leather bows and crumples from her strike. He curses like he hit his knee on the ottoman, but she doesn't hear it scoot across the tile floor.

"Out!" Rey shrieks, wildly hitting the couch once more. She nearly topples over its back pivoting to stomp around it and immobilize the intruder while he's lying down.

"What the hell!" he grunts, crawling away to escape as he struggles to stand.

She misses his head by mere inches, shouts in frustration as he rises to his feet. He's significantly bigger than her, can overpower her easily, and Rey grits her teeth chasing after his long strides across her living room.

"Get out!" She charges in a blind fury with the bat over her head, lungs stinging from her volume. "Get out of my house!"

"Your house?!" He sputters like he's appalled by the suggestion, spinning back with his hands up to meet her furious gaze —

Rey recognizes him. That guy from Poe's party.

She drops the bat. He visibly cringes when it clunks to the floor and rolls away, stumbling over his own feet when he makes it to the door.

"W- What are you doing here?!" She can feel the deep pink coloring her face as she crouches to grab the bat again. "You fucking creep! Get out of my house!"

"Your — Fine!" He fumbles with the knob, slides pieces aside that aren't there. He sounds exasperated, bewildered, and as furious as she. "I'll fucking leave! I'll —"

Rey thinks his name is Ben but isn't sure. He opens the door and slams it closed behind him, exits before letting the last word leave his lips.

She hesitates briefly, chest heaving as she stares at the entry. The blood rushing to her head makes her dizzy. This doesn't make sense. Something is… wrong or —

Rey runs outside, grips onto the railing for balance. The driveway is empty with no retreating footsteps in the swath of sand collected at the bottom of the stairs in front of the carports. No shadows stagger off towards the road or treelines. The sun hangs high. The sky is a clear crisp blue. Like nothing happened at all.

But he couldn't have ran out of sight already. Unless he jumped the deck and risked breaking a leg.

Rey counts as she inhales deeply, stays at her perch for several minutes and waits for answers to appear. A hollowness drops in her ribs like a cavity, a whispering dread that overrides her instinct to tell someone what happened. She can't place _how_ the interaction seemed _off,_ yet the intuition nags to insist that this is something to… keep to herself. Just for now. Until she can better describe this uncanny feeling flooding her veins.

She rests her palm on her chest once again, waiting for her heartbeat to slow. Rey glances to her empty apartment behind her, front door still open and letting out the air conditioning. She confirms the sand remains undisturbed one last time before going back inside.

✖❌✖❌

Ben crosses his arms, frowning at the closed front door. He bounces on the balls of his feet, coming down from the adrenaline rush. He checks over his shoulder, sees no cars parked on or at the end of the long driveway. Peers through the small oval window to check the distorted foyer, the view bent from the decoratively-textured glass.

No one there as far as he can tell.

He knocks. Waits to hear footsteps or shouting. A breeze rustles the branches of the towering oak trees bordering the yard. The movement disturbs a flock of birds that fly away. Ben shifts his weight, knocks once more.

Still nothing. He takes a deep breath before opening the door to go back inside.

It closes behind him with a resonating click. Ben pauses before deciding to move. The floor creaks beneath his weight and he stops again, glancing around a corner into the kitchen and then the den. He feels awkward by the time he makes it to the top of the stairs, checking the empty house for a woman with a baseball bat. 

The cute one that told him off at Poe's party. He's certain it was her, gave him the same disgusted look. Somehow found where he's staying, sneaked inside to attack him on the couch, and to… banish him from the house. Screaming that it was her own. But she seemed genuinely frightened like it wasn't planned at all. He was too startled to ask any of the obvious questions, to do anything sensible besides flee from his own fucking home like a goddamn idiot. She isn't even here. Ben finds no signs of her presence anywhere.

There's something he's _missing_ he can't place, unable to dismiss the irrational explanations flitting through his thoughts — like that she really thought she was in her home, or really thought he was in hers but —

Ben checks all the doors again. The front door was locked when she chased him. Backdoor is locked too. The patio door would be off its tracks if she used it. Boxes still block the exit through the unfinished basement.

His mind races too much to figure it out right now. Later. Once he's calmer, more like himself. Instead of a coward who ran away.

Ben returns to the den. Shoves back the coffee table he bumped aside scrambling off the sofa. He reorders the scattered pile of papers, scans over the packet left on top looking for a remote. The date & numbers stand out prominently, sparking his rage to full burst. Left with the consequences of his father's bullshit. With no one to share the full scope of his loathing. At least his mother will never know the full extent of what he pulled behind her back.

The consideration isn't comforting. But it's better than seriously asking himself if he's seeing things that aren't there. Ben tenses his jaw. Cracks his knuckles. Leaps to his feet and storms out of the house.

He slams the backdoor behind him, marches to the shed out in the yard. Unlatches the entry and leaves it open when he steps in, letting the soft morning light illuminate the concrete floor. His father's outfitted shed was one of the first areas Ben cleared out. Sold off the extra tools, the riding lawn mower, and the rest. Left the workbench, the pair of wooden stools, and the punching bag hanging in the corner. Ben's well-broken boxing gloves rest on the floor in its shadow.

Funny that the one thing he holds onto from his father was kept from his mother as well. The first lessons at least, before she realized what Ben was doing wandering out into the shed. He puts his phone on the bench, pulls on the gloves, can hear Han Solo's voice in his memory — 

_Look, your mom's right about handling things diplomatically when you can, and most of the time, you can. But, man to man? Sometimes you gotta knock his lights out._

— Ben's punch connects with a heavy thump, shrugging the bag. He throws his other hand when it tilts back, doesn't pause before his third. Blows his hair from his face, like he did when shown to keep his thumb outside his clenched fist.

_Don't want to break a finger, kid. Look, you're bigger than most of 'em, stay strong, look tough, none of them will mess with you._

It was true. Spent two weeks taking covert lessons when his mother worked late. Decked the kid waiting for the bus afterschool and never got bothered again. Kept it up for years, staying fit and "redirecting" his aggression on the punching bag. Usually alone as he grew older, as he slowly realized his father's scabs & black eyes were coming from bookies instead of secret heroics.

Ben keeps hitting the bag. Exertion still works to banish his muddled thoughts, to scatter them afar to be recollected and revised on his own terms. Emotions lose their immediacy when he focuses on his breathing, his footwork, his tiring limbs — on maintaining his pace, on adding another second until it becomes a minute and another minute more. His body becomes primary, a tool with abilities to hone. Apart from his head. From the diner. The woman. The house. The world. Ignore that lingering sensation of being watched.

Pretending to box. One thing Ben still does, figures he probably always will. Han Solo would smirk wherever he's burning right now —

The phone rings.

Ben drops his hands, stirred from his reverie. Pauses to check the open entryway behind him, pokes his head out and only sees empty backyard. The call goes to voicemail as he removes his gloves and sets them on the workbench. He leans in to check the notification on his lockscreen before it fades.

…Lando. His father's old friend. Pretty early his time.

Trying to "reach out" again, if this message is like the rest. Ben still has no interest in taking up Lando's offers to fly out and see him in Las Vegas, no desire to "catch up" with the spectres of his parents' memories disturbing the mood. The idea of playing nice is laughable, but not being nice could potentially be… cathartic.

Meager rationale. An excuse he's used before. Enough for Ben to follow his impulse to return the call, despite knowing no good will come of it in his current state.

Lando picks up after the third ring. "Heyyy, Ben —"

"Hi," Ben greets flatly.

"— Nice hearing your voice." Lando doesn't miss a beat. "It's been awhile." He continues, speaking with the same casual cadence Ben recalls drifting from the dining room in clouds of cigar smoke. "Sure you saw my calls. Didn't want you to think I'd forgotten about you."

What does he even say to that? "Yeah, I saw."

"Good to hear from you."

That same cautious turn of phrase Poe used. Good to see him. Good to hear from him. Talking to Ben like he disappeared from the earth. He leans back on the bench, clenches and releases his unoccupied hand as he adjusts his hold on the phone. Tries not to keep glancing at the open doorway.

"Been… busy," Ben lies.

"I can imagine." Lando pauses. "Lot to clear up all at once."

Unspecific enough to give Ben an opening. "Clearing up a lot. Something to ask you, actually."

"What's up?"

Lando is trying to show him a kindness, but Ben's desire to release hours & days of rehashed frustration overrides his more polite impulses. The empty stretches of weeks shortened so abruptly to a tipping point — with all he has to do appearing only more insurmountable, despite having a logical order in place. And no one he can blurt it all aloud to without cringing with shame.

"Saw those Facebook photos of you and my father. From Vegas." When Ben logged back into his father's inactive account a few weeks ago.

"Heh, yeah, last time he came out," Lando sighs. "Still hard to believe he's gone."

Ben ignores the wistful touch of nostalgia in his tone. "When was that?"

"About… two? Two years ago now."

"He come out with a decent amount of cash on hand?"

Ben swears he can hear Lando's eyebrows raise. "Sure, set some aside for his trip —"

"You know how he got it?"

There's a beat. "Got what?"

Ben rolls his eyes. "The _cash_ to piss away in Vegas."

Lando sounds hesitant, brings his voice low. "Ben, why are —"

The note of unspoken sympathy is almost comical, coming from someone who knew Han Solo's predilection for excess best of all. Ben snaps in response, lets the words tumble out of his mouth,

"— Did you know he took out mortgages on the diner too? After running out the house to pay back bookies?"

The pause is long. Grows awkward quickly, and Lando just stammers his name like his initial response turned to ashes on his tongue,

"Ben —"

He doesn't want to hear it, cutting off Lando immediately, "I didn't 'til a few months ago. Had the letters going to a post office box —"

"Look, Ben, your dad —"

He raises his voice, starts pacing the shed. "It's been a real adventure figuring out what my folks were up to past ten years. No idea how he planned to pay for all of it if the plane hadn't —"

"I thought — Is Chewie still there?" Lando attempts.

"For now," Ben tuts. "Got next to nothing left after figuring out the house."

Lando inhales deeply, creating a low static in the receiver. He talks gently again, "They can't kick you out overnight. Get a lawyer."

He knows that already. "That's not the point. I shouldn't be the one having to tell Chewie, _he_ should have to look at him and —" Ben doesn't finish the thought before the next one's said out loud. "And what about Mom? If she didn't go with him that day, did… Did she _know_ about any of —"

Ben falls silent hearing Lando choke a little when he replies, "I can't say. I really don't know —"

And all the rage he's kept inside bursts like a whip and stings his lungs, "No one ever thought to ask?" His cheeks flush hot as he shouts, "Or thought to tell him to _stop?_ Get some help?"

"Ben." Still straining to keep their derailed conversation tidy and neat. "I'm not out there and that… that sort of thing? Not my place —"

It's too much. "Are you fucking kidding me? After how many years of —"

Lando meets Ben's sharp reply with one of his own, emphasizing each syllable to make them stick, "Not my place to tell the man what to do with his life, with his family." Another beat. "I'm sure you can understand."

"Sure," Ben echoes. "You're a _great_ friend."

"…And I'm sure you wouldn't take well to someone coming at you that way either."

Ben pinches the bridge of his nose, walks to the doorway and leans on its frame. Patches of the yard are greener than others, growing back unevenly with the swinging temperatures of New England spring. Another breeze rustles some leaves, startling Ben to step out and check both ways again. Lando purposefully cut close and Ben skirts around it completely,

"Fucking ridiculous," he mumbles, more to himself than Lando. "Didn't change at all in _ten_ years…"

"Look, know there's been a lot put on you. It's a lot for anyone. Just…"

Ben presses his lips to a line, reenters the shed and turns over one of his boxing gloves. He expects Lando to defend his father, to be exasperated by Ben's pointed attitude but —

Lando trails off, probably debating what to say next. Remains almost affectionate, even though Ben hasn't been the little boy that called him "uncle" in nearly two decades. Could be genuine concern or maybe just guilt, both amusing Ben and carving a tiny well of regret in his chest.

"…Don't be a stranger," Lando insists. "Welcome to get away from it all and stay by me any time. If you ever want to."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Be safe out there, kid."

Lando ends the call. Ben looks at the device in his palm as the home screen flashes up before going black. He stuffs it in his pocket, bends to rest his elbows on the workbench and shake his head. He hoped to feel relieved after finally articulating what he's dreaded to say aloud. Somehow it just seems worse, more _real_ than ink on pages or a bank drone's dull tone.

Shouldn't have called back Lando at all. Not with his thoughts still unfocused after swinging away from a baseball bat. Ben scratches his neck, still disquieted by a sense of being observed —

Stops when he smells… that on his fingers again, hovering them close to his nose.

The picture of the woman shrieking for him to leave the house goes blank. It's not as _distinct_ as it was a few hours ago, but still there. From when he woke up already hard, covered his face with his hand and wished he remembered his dream. Spit in his palm, brought it down to wet his length and assumed it was a hypnagogic fantasy…

Ben avoids saying what he knows it is. Makes as little sense now as it did this morning, even less given the passage of time — and the confirmation that the scent was more than residue from a mind asleep —

Or maybe his mind's rebelled completely.

Ben sighs deeply, leaning back on the sofa and staring at the ceiling. The sun hangs high, brightens all the dusty corners in the den. He keeps his eyes open, unsure if the woman will return to his home — reexamines how to continue this already bizarre day.

That eerie sense of change remains. He taps along the armrest, searches for any excuse to grab the car keys and leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you to [SaveTheSpaceWhales](https://archiveofourown.org/users/awishman) and [lovefromyourginger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovefromyourginger) for taking a look at this for me. Have Ch3 ready to go up when Ch4 is drafted. Thank you again for reading 🙂
> 
> Find me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/theselittlefics) 💞


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this little writing experiment and for your feedback. A little longer between updates than expected with real life & all, thank you for bearing with me 🙂💞 Here we go:

Rey debates whether she should tell Finn about what happened.

She keeps replaying the morning's events but too many things still don't make sense. Everything was locked. The guy apparently _vanished_ outside her front door. Must have bumped into some furniture when he grunted during his escape, but nothing was disturbed. He just ran away in shock instead of attacking her, trying to steal something, or do any number of things she'd expect an intruder to do —

Rey rings up a couple picture books about otters and smiles to the older woman with chunky neon earrings holding a young girl's hand. Tears off the receipt and places it in one of the center's logo-printed biodegradable paper bags. She waves automatically as they leave.

The marine conservation center she volunteers at is fairly low-key with large acreage outside and frequent themed events. A decent amount of visitors come in to enjoy the air conditioning in the aquariums and creature exhibits. Usually Rey is out on the floor reciting facts & figures about the animals in their tanks while keeping an eye on overeager hands. Today she's covering the gift shop, whose steady foot traffic has been interrupting her overturning thoughts. The concrete walls are painted a serene blue that pops in between the stacks of bookshelves, above the long tables and cork boards crowded with crafts from local artists & standard aquarium souvenirs. A pair of moms with strollers chat by the stuffed animals as their toddlers spin the postcard displays. One turns to tell them to stop before Rey has to intervene.

She started here within a month of moving down, had her grinning Polaroid featured as Volunteer Of The Month twice. The ocean seemed like a magical goal when she was younger and laid awake in her bunk, staring up at the bed above hers with no real plan for how to build a life when she turned eighteen and would be thrown out on her own. And when she finally did it — made it to the coast after years of feeling the water calling to her through books & screens —

Throwing herself into that passion gave her a grounding, some sort of purpose for coming here. Cleanup days were excuses to walk new shores. Petting starfish and stingrays was an acceptable way to spend an afternoon. Rey enjoyed watching the delight of exploration brightening the faces of children and tourists. In moments of bald honesty, she can admit that she likes seeming knowledgeable as well.

She wishes she could have bottled what she felt the first time she watched sea turtles hatch at dawn. Like she had achieved something impossible by making it out here. She showed the photos to Finn. Got one printed and framed, hung it in the kitchen at hers & Rose's house. It sits in her closet at the new place with her long strings of collected shells, bottles of ocean-polished stones, and other regional sundries that seem cheesy now that she's lived here longer.

Her blank slate to build a life seemed more hopeful than aimless back then.

And she never hesitated to tell Finn pretty much anything. Instead of questioning whether her communication would be a bother. He'd probably get worried no matter how she presented it, either about her having a stalker or a declining mental state. She covers the mark on her arm with a leather band from one of the displays, itches the skin beneath it during her shift. Considers whether she should mention that bit —

She rings up a mug and a paint-by-numbers watercolor set. Then a stack of postcards. A snowglobe. A nightlight, two necklaces, and a new membership application. The hours _crawl_ this week like they did the week before and the one before that. Briefly she thinks maybe the wonder & excitement she had here was meant to change and fade eventually too.

A small burst of activity keeps Rey busy towards the end of her shift, visitors shuffling in for one last look before the closing announcement. She keeps her head down, concentrates on the price scanner's beeps and not tearing the paper bags. Rey peeks up when a customer takes a magnet from the register display and places it down with a loud slap. He wears a long leather coat that must be too hot to keep on outside. Tips the brim of his gray newsboy cap.

"This too," he greets with a thin smile.

She nods, sliding it next to the photo anthology books she's started to scan.

"B- B- B- Busy day?"

"Not more than usual," she answers honestly.

He nods. Rey meets his tired eyes briefly putting away the last book. He's older with a boxy face, thick stubble, and relaxed posture. He observes her with a jaded sort of gaze, like he's searching for something he saw many years ago.

"Lovely place. H- H- Had a great time."

"Glad to hear it," Rey chirps.

She bites behind her lip to dismiss a twinge of guilt for noticing his stutter, tells herself it's natural when it's so pronounced. He flips a silver coin in her periphery as she rings up the magnet — and slides it across the counter when she holds out his bag.

"Keep it."

He indicates the coin with a wink. It's too large and polished to be local currency, with deep creases like a heavily circulated bus token that's been buffed clean. A line of stamped squares frame its circumference on the side facing up. It tilts off-balance like the other side has heavier embossing underneath. Nothing Rey recognizes. She tries to be polite while concealing her ignorance at the same time,

"Is this — a donation?"

"Keep it," he repeats, pointing to Rey. "Y- Y- Y- You need it more than me."

He takes the bag and tips his hat once more before exiting. Leaves an eerie sense of distance behind him as he walks away, whistling a faint tune and swinging his bag like a slow-motion scene. Rey watches his back, the billowing hem of his long coat.

She shakes her head, realizes the shop is empty. Circles the counter, leans on her tiptoes to check if anyone can see into the gift shop from the hall. Rey scurries back to the register, turns the coin over in her palm. Same geometric pattern stamped into its border with a figure in the center, sitting cross-legged holding an upright sword. The lines appear rubbed down. Seems pretty old but the bright lustre makes it difficult to tell.

Again nothing Rey recognizes. She stuffs the coin into the back pocket of her jeans.

She straightens up some merchandise to busy her hands. He said to keep it, even if she doesn't need a stranger's self-serving charity or feigned sympathy. Probably just a weird way to come on to her, though the tone and attitude didn't match. Or maybe he was just being nice, gave her a cheap souvenir. Nothing to justify the weight it drops in her chest, that same note of suspicion from this morning.

Everything still seems off after such a bizarre start to the day. Rey counts the drawer, uses the numbers as a meter for her breaths. Tries to empty her mind to focus on more pressing matters —

Maybe it's better not to tell Finn if she's so self-conscious, keeps asking herself the same basic question in so many different ways. After an entire shift it feels like the natural conclusion that was there all along. Not right now. After he and Rose are back from Tampa at least.

Soon she'll be home. Can figure it out from there.

✖❌✖❌

Ben goes to a grocery store two exits down the highway just to have a longer drive. He keeps the music low, burrows his thoughts into the motions of his wrists & ankles. Loses them as he guides the wheel, coasts the pedals, and changes lanes. The roads taper over hills as he approaches the house, all the trees contrasting sharply against the gray sky. Probably going to rain soon.

Ben pulls into the driveway and stays seated as the headlamps dim. The last thing he needs is to be doubting his grasp on reality on top of the rest. Has no way to confirm that the woman was ever really there. And knows what it would sound like to someone else if he tried to explain it.

Maybe his imagination slipped past its boundaries after being here alone for too long. Ben uncomfortably acknowledges how little he speaks to others, even in text or online. Beyond the diner it became rarer the more nights he stayed in this time capsule, suspended from the world by inaction more than circumstance. Leaving invitations and messages mostly unopened and only some answered, until they appeared less frequently.

But wasn't always like this. Just happened in the past almost year. Easy to blame his parents' inconvenient deaths forcing him to return, to use it to set aside his role in his isolation —

Until it became too big to ignore, too much like… like a realistic apparition in the den. Of a woman he met very briefly who didn't even enjoy his company.

Ben tenses his jaw before grabbing the bags from the passenger seat and heading inside. The front door creaks closed in greeting. He squints flipping on the lights, stark yellow from the cloudy afternoon darkening the windows. He heads to the kitchen and crouches in front of the refrigerator, its little bulb washing out his pale skin like bone. Mostly empty with some beverages, various packaged snacks, and condiments of questionable age. Ben puts everything away, glares into a half-finished bag of baby carrots blooming with mold. Just bought those a few days ago and gone this bad already.

He tosses them out and kicks his shoes off in the foyer, twists his ring as he ascends the stairs. Keeps wearing the thing even though it irritates his finger after too long, without any pattern to the varying exposure times. Ben leaves the lights out in "his" room despite everything being washed in shadow, frowns at his grayed reflection in the mirror above the dresser. Turns around when he realizes he left the box on the bedside table, grimaces finding _more_ details his mind can't hold.

Ben sits at the edge of the mattress and flips open the square wooden box where he stores the ring, the same one he found it in. A simple frame with no lining or ornamentation, only decorated with scratches from many years of use. Took it down from a high shelf in his parents' closet only a couple weeks after he arrived, when he started organizing their endless junk. Made tinny clattering sounds so he unlatched its iron buckle on a whim, still remembers how his heart sank reading his grandfather's name scrawled inside the lid.

Anakin Skywalker. His biological grandfather, not the one he faintly remembers who passed away when he was very small. Didn't even realize that Bail was his mother's stepfather until a later age, when it finally occurred to him to ask why her twin brother has a different last name. Then Ben asked if she knew her father and his mother said she did, but he left when they were young. Her voice was clipped, her eyes darted to the floor, and even though Ben was a boy he knew not to say anything more.

The ring drops into the box with an inelegant clunk, rolls to rest beside its leather pouch. Sometimes he reexamines the medallion, a thick silver circle with two double-sided arrows crossing each other like a plus sign. Inlaid with the same jade as the ring. Ben can't recall where else he's seen the symbol, but hasn't really looked either. He pieced together more about his mother's parents over the years, from both overt & overheard conversations and bits of information implied in passing commentary. He gathered that at a point his grandfather underwent some profound change — one that made his rationality & awareness debateable, and that no one followed when he turned around to leave.

Ben never sought out the obviously missing details. A part of him wonders if his mother ever planned to tell him the entire story one day. Doesn't matter now. He supposes he'll never know. 

Raindrops start pattering on the roof and streaking the window. The box clacks closed. Ben isn't sure if sentimentality or defiance is what compels him to wear the ring. Whether it's a way to flip off his parents for hiding so much from him. Or a way to appreciate his lineage while shaping it into his own. Ben figures he can relate to wandering away with one's thoughts, getting lost in one's head like forgetting the directions towards home. Scratches his neck, exhales slowly through his nose. Wanders back downstairs to the den, turns on the TV and puts on a movie whose title he doesn't recognize to keep his mind busy elsewhere. 

None of the dialogue registers, flits between his ears as his focus deteriorates quickly. Ben's unsure whether to prioritize the likely foreclosure or the increased frequency of… disruptions in lucidity, especially the last few days.

Sounds kinder than losing his fucking mind.

The rain beats harder on the windows, drumming a steady rhythm that weighs his eyelids and blurs his vision as he starts to drift back to sleep. A strong gust of wind cracks a tree branch. The lights flicker, cutting out the TV for a second before it blips back on. His limbs grow weary, his lips curl up in a thin smirk as he admits that this is all he really does anymore. Float in & out of consciousness and usually ending his days exactly where they began, with bites to eat and spurts of movement in between. 

Again Ben knows what it sounds like. But right now he can just let time pass in dreams. His body sinks into the couch, the den fogs away to a sandy beige, he relaxes his back as a sea-salted breeze rolls with another burst of wind —

And Ben inhales deeply, smells the ocean and hears its steady waves. Bends down to a pattern on the ground, crossed double arrows that bruise from jade blue to black to an earthy brown & navy. Melts to thinner ornate lines with directional letters at the ends, the arrows shifting down to bloom in the center like a compass rose. He tilts his head as it distills into a grid, sharpening until he discerns clay striping the tiles.

A mosaic on the floor of a small circular room, a compass like he thought before. With a line of checkered tiles pointing South. Ben turns around that way, sees a staircase bolted on the white painted walls.

_"Ben?"_

A woman's voice calls his name from somewhere above him, gentle and unfamiliar. Stairs spiral up in a helix as far as he can see, but there are no figures leaning over the railings to spot him below.

_"Hey…"_

He spins around, craning his neck and squinting to examine the stairs once more. Another breeze dusts his hair in his eyes, directs Ben towards an arched entryway behind him that overlooks a choppy sea. A bright ball of light hangs high above the horizon, dimming to disappear and reform in regular intervals.

_"Wake up!"_

The voice changes, becomes louder. The ball of light tightens its focus to form a giant lens. On top of a blurry gray tower of fuzzy lines that barely contrasts against the backdrop.

Like a lighthouse. He glances up the spiraling staircase again, curious instead of dizzy as he realizes he's in it as he observes it from afar. The seas crest higher and give an ominous sense of approach.

_"Wake the fuck up!"_

Ben opens his eyes. His heart drops.

The woman from Poe's party looms above him with the bat wielded high over her head. Her brown eyes ignited by suspicion, her striking features twisted by fury and fear —

His defensive instinct cringes him back against the sofa, reacting automatically while half-asleep. His fists cover his face. The threat feels real even if she isn't, and Ben shouts as a desperate last resort before she swings,

"STOP!"

✖❌✖❌

Rey nearly loses her grip on the bat, taken aback by his volume. Her chest heaves with shortened breaths, still bewildered by his reappearance and physically guarded reaction.

"Just — fucking stop a second!" he insists, slightly muffled by his hands.

"What —" She struggles to speak, her face hot and pulse still racing. "What are you doing in my house?!"

He drops his fists, eyes darting around like he's checking before retorting incredulously, "_Your_ house —"

Rey stomps her foot, reaffirming her stance. He flinches reflexively from the harsh slam and she shrieks, "Why the hell did you _come back_ here?"

Nothing makes sense. She puttered around a little bit after the aquarium, changed into leggings and an ill-fitting t-shirt leftover from a radio station event at the bar several months ago. Still on edge from the morning, doubting her judgment even on her drive home after mulling it all damn day. But starting to settle finally, to feel like the space was still hers alone. Only to return to the living room and find him on the recliner, maybe obsessed by her daring to confront him or —

"Stop, wait a second, just…"

He trails off as he studies her face with a quiet intensity that catches Rey off-guard. Like he searches for how to place her in a larger scene, belying his confusion.

Her elbows wobble. "What!"

It's not meant to be a question. He responds with one of his own.

"…What do you mean _your_ house?"

Rey blinks. "My —"

His voice is low and tempered with a… hesitance she didn't expect at all. She glances behind her to confirm her bedroom is still there, spins back to see him tilting his head to check too.

"You're in my house." She lowers the bat, holds it out between them to maintain her leverage. _"Again."_

"Well." He furrows his brows as he appraises his surroundings. "That's not what it looks like to me."

"— What's that supposed to mean?"

There's a beat. "You're in my house."

She huffs, "_No,_ I'm not in your —"

"_Yes,_ you are," he counters. He nods to the space over her shoulder. "And blocking the TV."

She laughs even though she doesn't find it funny, flabbergasted by his insistence that he's not sitting right fucking there. She can't tell if he's kidding, stammering her reply,

"N- No, you're — you're definitely in _my_ house —"

"…I suppose we're at an impasse then."

They fall quiet. Neither of them move. His eyes meet hers again, sharp despite the tired lines beneath them. Rey swallows hard, bat starting to waver. His long dark hair sticks to patches of his neck like hers do in the mornings, from her body running warm in sleep. His tall broad frame fills most of the seat. One of his knees bounces with a nervous energy as he taps his fingers, waiting for her to break the increasingly awkward silence.

Still attractive without a buzz. Angular features and a firm posture even when sitting below her, somehow looming from beneath. Makes his continued presence all the more unnerving.

"How did you get in here?" she asks, pointing the bat towards the door.

"You woke me up. You should be telling me."

Rey glares at the engaged lock, not acknowledging his reply. "No way you could have climbed up, window doesn't unlock from outside —"

"I was _asleep,_" he reiterates. "_You_ woke me up. And now you're —"

She can feel the color staining her cheeks. "You weren't asleep there before!"

He brings his voice low, emphasizing every word with a bitter edge,

"— Is this some kind of joke?"

The suggestion is infuriating. "A _joke_ —"

"Come at me twice with a bat when I'm just…" His eyes scan behind her again before meeting hers once more. "And telling me this is your house…"

Rey follows his hand sweeping to indicate the kitchenette, turning back slowly when she hears his exasperated sigh. He leans into the chair, tilting his chin up to watch the ceiling instead of her movements. Like accepting a grave defeat.

Her stomach flips with the growing realization that he's absolutely serious. Not feigning confusion. Not trying to draw her closer to lull her into a false sense of security. Something about his manner is guarded, matching her shaking arm as she brings down the bat to her side. He runs his fingers through his hair, nodding as he scans the walls and lingers on a blank spot like there's something there. 

He still hasn't elaborated and Rey scrambles, "It's — not a joke, do you seriously think —"

"— It doesn't fucking matter. You're not real anyway."

He says it more to himself than to her, pinching the bridge of his nose. The bat drops from her hand from shock, her nerves leaping with the perception of a creeping unknown.

"I- I can promise you I'm real and that you're really — really sitting there." She gestures to the ground, mouth dropped open as she stumbles over her words. "What do you see? The bat? The — the couch or —"

He rests his elbows on his thighs examining the floor beside her bare feet. Raises his head to scrutinize her expression once more. A curiosity darkens his gaze as he answers plainly,

"I can't see your surroundings." He pauses. "Only you."

"Then what…"

Her vision swims, mind dizzying to catch up with the conversation. She staggers towards the ottoman, sits on its edge and crosses her arms with an ankle resting on her knee. A weight sinks her stomach and she shakes her head, waiting for something to happen to make her wake up, to make him go away, to make this _stop_ —

"…What's your name?"

He asks it quietly, still observing her profile in her periphery. She blinks. "Rey."

"What's yours?" she adds, not wanting to admit she's pretty sure she remembers.

"Ben Solo."

She did. Stays turned away. "Rey Johnson."

Another silence. Then a rustle of fabric. A soft creaking when Ben shifts in the seat. Rey scratches the mark on her arm, spots her cell phone beside her. She grabs it and jumps to her feet, struck by an idea that will surely break his illusion.

"Look, you're really here, I- I can show you…"

Her fingers shake unlocking the screen. She peeks up, notes how he gapes at her hands with his eyebrows raised. Rey opens the camera and toggles with the flash settings.

"Just — stay right there —"

She holds the phone out vertically, trembling as she adjusts to capture all of Ben in the photo. He doesn't look directly into the viewfinder, keeping his grim face and folded limbs angled away. He seems too big for the recliner through the tiny frame. Her thumb hovers over the digital shutter button —

"Okay, see…"

— and Rey nearly drops her phone when the picture she took flashes onto the display.

She clutches it tightly, other hand covering her mouth in shock as flops onto the ottoman. Ben perches forward to see it too,

"— What is it?"

"I…" She purses her lips, scoots around her makeshift chair to get nearer and show him up close.

The recliner is empty. Cushions and tangled blanket undisturbed. Tipped slightly back from rocking under his weight.

"I- I swear you were in the shot before…"

Rey flinches when Ben clears his throat, jerking her phone away as he reaches for something a few inches from her hips.

His knees brush hers and he mumbles, "Sorry…"

Rey barely notices, concentrating on his fumbling motions and shortened breaths. Unable to think of much else beyond how he appears just as perplexed as she. His palm slides down & bumps up the surface, perceiving an unseen object. His fingers tense to pluck it up and Ben settles back in the chair — 

She audibly gasps. His phone slips into view like a sleight of hand trick. He flicks to unlock the screen.

"Just poof in for you too?"

And Rey nods even though he isn't looking, somehow understanding exactly what he means. The natural light in her living room dims to dusky gold as evening approaches. The glare from Ben's phone display pales his face in its artificial glow. That heavy feeling remains like the air's being slowly drained.

"See you in there," he narrates, "just waiting for it to focus…"

He taps the phone. A couple seconds pass. One final glimmer of hope that he'll blurt something out that explains it all perfectly — 

Ben grinds his jaw. His eyes dart up to meet hers once more.

"I suppose we're at another impasse then."

She frowns at the remark. Ben turns his phone to reveal the screen, hunching forward to bring it a couple inches from her nose… The side edge of a heavily polished wooden coffee table with decorated spiral wisps for skinny legs. Some papers strewn on top with half a mug peeking into the photo. Behind it a large blurry TV. The wallpaper is a little outdated, mostly washed out.

Rey follows his hand as he places the phone next to her again. On the ottoman. That's also his coffee table. His span is wide enough to cover the device as he sets it down. Nothing beneath it when he sits back. Like it disappeared leaving his touch.

"W- What's happening?" Her voice is more timid than intended, demanding an answer he doesn't have. "How can you be… here and…"

Her stomach churns and Rey wonders if this horrible lurching sense of foreboding will make her sick. She jerks to sit up straight when Ben fumbles for something to say,

"Are you… in Connecticut too or —"

"No. I live in Florida."

Thousand miles south of him. Does little to calm her reeling nerves. He continues conversationally, "Warm down there right now?"

"…Yeah." She exhales slowly, wringing her hands in her lap. "Do you have any idea what —"

"I have no idea what the fuck is going on."

Still Rey clings to the possibility of finding a semi-rational way to articulate what's happening without sounding delusional. After Ben is gone. When she can reevaluate all this without that _awareness_ of being in his view.

"What do we do?" she asks, mostly rhetorically. "Just wait for it to stop?"

"I guess."

"What if it —"

"Happens again?" Ben finishes. "It might not —"

"Twice in one day though?"

A car passes outside, its music loud enough to static through the room before dissipating. She idly wonders if Ben heard it too when he offers,

"Could be temporary. A… glitch in the time-space continuum."

The false note in his tone makes it seem like wishful thinking on his part. But the desire to never have to address this again makes the excuse appealing.

"That —" She coughs. "Well, could be —"

Her throat is dry. She swallows a couple times, raises a finger to signal a pause.

"One second…"

Rey stands and shuffles to the kitchenette, her pulse racing again with her back turned towards him. His stare feels almost physical, though observing her cautiously rather than leering. She takes her time opening the cabinet, filling her empty glass at the sink, sipping her water — desperately considers the possibility that maybe she'll spin around and no longer see him there —

She counts to three before she does.

Her mouth drops. She clutches her drink before it falls to the floor. He's gone. Just like she wished as a last resort.

But his absence isn't reassuring or soothing or anything else she imagined at all. Rey hurries to the recliner, skims her hand over the back and confirms it's warm. Recoils instinctively from this confirmation that he _was_ really _there._ She flops onto the couch across from the chair, palm covering her sternum. Eyeing the seat suspiciously like it might start to move. Anything besides having to acknowledge the magnitude of what occurred. That a bizarre encounter from this morning has already transitioned towards the unexplained.

She shivers with the thought. More apprehensive than excited by the notion of potential discovery. Especially since Ben doesn't seem like good company.

Over and over she replays certain seconds of their interaction, looking down at the photo of her empty recliner still in the gallery on her phone. Shouting to wake him up. A genuine fear when she raised her bat. The strangely vulnerable note of loss in his dismissal, assuming she wasn't really there. Seeing the picture of _his_ room on the phone. The device just appearing in his grasp.

…And his hand covering it completely. His knees brushing hers followed by a polite apology. How broad his frame seemed in the chair. The stern way he evaluated their dilemma. The glimmer of curiosity crossing his features watching her face. Not being unnerved sensing his gaze trail her spine.

Or maybe she just imagined him looking at her like that, defaulting to her lesser instincts as a distraction. She curses herself for noticing the wrong things in such absurd circumstances. Rehashes it all in different orders as evening turns to night, nervous that a sudden movement could trigger the… connection again.

Eventually she relaxes enough to turn on the TV. Leaves on the 24-hour local news station as she puts away the bat, hand washes a few dishes, and wastes away an hour browsing her phone. Too mentally exhausted to think about leaving. Dusk turns to night. At some point she glimpses the time on the microwave, convinces herself it's excusably late enough to rest.

Rey leaves on her clothes, self-conscious of what Ben can & cannot see. Lowers the air conditioning and keeps the windows closed, pulling herself under the covers of her bed. Rarely does it now that she's alone, but that perception of distant company in another room returns as familiar memory. Like when she tried to get comfortable as a little kid. 

She squirms on the mattress. The blankets are snug. Her cheeks feel hot, her t-shirt and leggings very near to her skin. Soon her jumbled theories and considerations start to drift with approaching sleep — flit back to the early morning when she imagined being under a penetrating stare —

The reminder flares a warmth between her legs. Unconsciously, and unwarranted without the accompaniment of detailed imagery. She rubs her thighs together, rolls onto her side and evens her breaths. Just her body giving her excuses to ignore her unease, to confuse her even more…

…Both unsettled and captivated by the idea of someone that looks like him walking in her room to see her above the covers. Despite being an asshole, despite not seeming particularly interesting. Rey keeps returning to the confined intensity behind his silent observations. And chides herself for even thinking about it briefly, like when she let her observations wander so easily in the living room before.

Doesn't matter if he's attractive. That's not what's important right now. Soon she draws a blank in her mind to silence all the words. Falls into a deep, restful, and dreamless night's sleep.

✖❌✖❌

Ben makes it to the bedroom that night. Lies on his back and studies the photo of the empty coffee table on his phone. This evidence of their interaction remains, the camera focused on the foreground to capture Rey in the frame.

Her speech was too unpredictable to just be his imagination. At least that's what he holds onto like a mantra to convince himself he hasn't gone insane. But the alternative to that… it forces him to seek an answer beyond conventional explanations. For how he can see a woman in his home who sits a thousand miles away in her own. And not have it be a delusion or dream.

Better not to get carried away so soon, he decides. For all he knows it won't happen again. He sets the phone on the nightstand where the ring's box is closed and turned away. He closes his eyes and recalls her harrowed expression, the way she frowned in profile looking down to the floor. Her body visibly releasing its winding tension as she exhaled slowly after too many minutes of strain.

Beautiful even in distress. Her lips pouting flawlessly. Her fiery eyes going glassy with tears. Her tanned skin flushed in anger then something else.

And Ben finds a part of himself hoping he'll see her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you again to [SaveTheSpaceWhales](https://archiveofourown.org/users/awishman) and [weddersins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weddersins) for reading this over + for your friendship ❤
> 
> Ch 4 is completed, will post after Ch 5 is drafted (hope to be a little sooner this time). Find me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/theselittlefics)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch 5 came together pretty quickly, so here goes Ch 4 🙂 Thank you for reading and hope you enjoy 💘

Rey can barely concentrate while opening the bar the next day. She makes it on time, even a little early, waiting a few minutes for Kaydel to arrive with the keys. Rey loses track of her routine quickly, having to check the stocking cheat sheet taped to the fridge for new hires more than once. Cuts the first set of lemon wedges the wrong way. Takes longer than usual to fill the drink orders, but thankfully the lunch crowd is sparse. Kaydel doesn't notice anything until halfway through their shift, when Rey flinches hearing the high-pitched scratch the printer makes spitting out a new ticket.

"You okay?" Kaydel asks, leaning on the bar with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Rey replies, forcing a thin smile. "Just a little tired."

It's the truth. Her mind remains agitated despite her body feeling well-rested, still reviewing yesterday's events hoping to notice something new. She keeps glancing to the hostess stand to see if _he's_ waiting for a table or sidling past to approach the bar. She sits in the back office during her break instead of walking outside, rocking in the chair and facing the only entrance to the room. Not wanting to admit even in her thoughts that she worries Ben will reappear. Not knowing if it's pattern or coincidence that the two times she saw him so far were in her home. 

Rey doesn't linger when the next guy is running late, scurrying out before Kaydel asks if she can cover for her again. Drives straight to the apartment, consciously trying not to check over her shoulder as she ascends the long front stairs and fumbles with her key. She pushes the door open, half-expecting to find her furniture rearranged. But nothing has moved in her absence. The late afternoon sun beams over the white tiled floor. She hesitates by the entry. Tunes out the cars, the seagulls close by, and the house's noises to confirm she's alone.

Her room feels unfamiliar when she drops her bag on the bed. Like those first days she stayed here unpacking her things. She resists closing the door to change out of her clothes, refusing to appease that uncanny sense of observation that remains. The photo of the empty recliner was still there this morning. Rey dumps the contents of her bag on the bedspread and finds her phone to confirm again.

The apartment feels cramped instead of cozy. The cooled air too crisp and thin. Already regrets skipping her usual walk during break, maybe _that's_ why she's so tense. Rey strips down, goosebumps lining her skin as she tosses her uniform on a pile by the foot of her bed. She notices the mark on her arm in the mirror hanging by the closet, almost completely faded away. Rey itches the spot, nose down to avoid meeting her own gaze as she imagines Ben's trailing her spine like she felt the night before —

A thought that's intruded more often today than she'd like to admit. Rey rolls down her underwear, pulls on the first bathing suit she touches in the closet, and rushes into the living room to verify _only this once more_ that he isn't there.

He's not.

Rey sighs. Every action feels hurried from being on edge all day. Unusually consumed by a nagging intuition of imminent change, a need to be alone with her thoughts but can't seem to do it here. She pulls down the backside of her bright pink one-piece swimsuit, plainly-cut with no decoration beyond the tiny logo by her hip. No point in battling with tangled strings for a quick swim. Her phone chirps when she grabs a towel from her room. She checks the notification, surprised to see a text from Finn:

_Came back today instead if you want to come through later_

Probably an interesting story there to have returned so soon, though Paige's flair for the dramatic and unexpected isn't anything new. Rey leaves instead of answering right away, now even more uncertain about whether to discuss this… topic with Finn.

Her flip-flops seem too loud clapping against the stairs as she hurries from the house. No tote bag or anything besides the towel she drapes over her shoulders and her braceleted house key. She walks to the end of her street with crossed arms, watching her feet instead of the sidewalk ahead. The houses shrink from stilted multifamilies to painted cinder-blocks in neatly-zoned lots. Grow into larger vacation homes as she approaches the shore. Still hot in the late afternoon, just humid enough to bead sweat on her neck but not to churn thunderstorms. She waits for a few minutes at the last crosswalk over the highway ribboning next to the beach, stirred from her reverie by a driver honking his horn to remind her to go.

The parking lot is mostly empty on a weekday during the off-season. One of the picnic tables and barbecues are occupied by a boisterous family gathering with some kids throwing water balloons in the grassy square overlooking the dunes. The choppy ocean breeze dusts up sand in Rey's mouth as she descends the long wooden stairs, blows up her towel as she winds closer to the sea. She finds a spot with some driftwood and stones to weigh it down with her sandals —

And sprints for the water at full speed, ignoring the people who stare. She shivers as she wades deeper, adjusting until she's submerged to her shoulders. She lifts her toes to drag the soft sandbar. The waves bob her arms beneath the surface, sway her floating body like a steady cradle. Finally her mind blanks watching the horizon and endless ocean, turned away from the high-rise condos and the static of a familiar song from an old boombox radio. The tension seeps from her pores, carried away by waves that inch her towards the shore. Some swell taller and she wades to stay behind where they crest. Ducks beneath the water, tastes salt on her tongue, and appreciates the world in its natural order.

…Ocean meeting sand, tides creeping on their regular schedules and eventually foaming under moonlight. Constant, consistent, scientific, and not allowing for strangers to materialize randomly in her living room.

Rey stays longer than planned, well after her fingers prune. Her limbs are relaxed from exertion, from treading water to give her mind a reprieve. Sand cakes her feet as she shakes out her towel, squeezes water from her tied-up hair. She wraps it around her waist and heads back up the dunes. Stops at the top of the stairs to reach back and press the prickling skin below her shoulderblades. Bites her lip from the sting. Scolds herself for being so scattered earlier, to forget something as elementary as sunscreen. She squeezes her eyes closed beneath the freezing pull-cord outdoor shower to rinse off the seawater. Not thinking about Ben at all, or anything else, for awhile now —

"Rey, think fast!"

She gasps and twirls around, nearly knocking into the shower. A couple water balloons burst on the pavement a few inches from her feet, stick bits of plastic to her ankles.

"Rey?"

She shakes her head, recognizes the two boys from last year's 8-10s summer camp at the aquarium. She waves feebly with a lopsided smile, cheeks matching her shoulders. From being so startled by… kids with water balloons.

"Hey there." She grabs her towel from the bench, wrapping it high below her arms as she asks, "Coming back to camp this summer?"

"Yeah, think so," the shorter one answers. He gestures towards the barbecues. "Do you want to join?"

"Oh, thank you, but… was just on my way home," she offers. "Maybe next time."

"Okay!" He glares at the taller one before sprinting back. "Beat you there —"

"Hey!"

They shout their goodbyes over their shoulders, flashing toothy grins. Rey shifts her weight on her feet, scratches her ankles. She spots the boys watching her go and hastens her pace passing by the grassy square. Just kids being kids, she reminds herself. Nothing to justify this continuing unease. Her sandals kick up dust as she walks through the parking lot, making her cough and go more quickly. She rubs it from her irritated eyes, other fist slamming the traffic signal.

Every tiny surprise sends her reeling. It's exhausting, already sapping away whatever relief she enjoyed before. Rey slows after crossing the street to delay her return, frowning as she debates how to reply to Finn. This _doubt_ is so unfamiliar. She remembers racing him to the water with surfboards tucked under their arms the day they arrived. How he came over with a bag of candied popcorn when her boyfriend dumped her in Des Moines. Hiding upstairs from their housemates in high school to play cards, finish homework, and share the tablet she won in a carnival raffle.

Despite all those years, she imagines his gaze softening as she tells him about Ben. Maybe shifting uncomfortably in his seat, elbows resting on his knees. Rey's footsteps beat low beneath each picture like a metronome, emphasizing every note of unspoken concern in his demeanor. _He'll probably hold her shoulder and gently encourage her to get some help —_

Or she can forget this ever happened. And stop assuming Ben will reappear.

Rey hesitates before ascending the stairs to her home, consciously uses the title in her thoughts even though it doesn't fit. She holds her breath while unlocking the door, opens it a couple inches and waits silently. She enters, exhales slowly with the confirmation that she is alone. Takes down her hair and combs it with her fingers, tossing her towel towards the closet and still smelling saltwater on her skin.

Rey halts at the threshold to her bedroom. The coin from that guy is on the floor. She furrows her brows, crouching to examine it laying there innocently. Almost certain it hadn't fallen before she left, but not trusting herself completely. The side with the sitting figure faces up, its sword blurred by Rey's shadow. She puts it back on her dresser, out next to her conch shells like before.

…She just forgot. Normal to forget things sometimes.

Rey begins shrugging off one strap of her swimsuit, shaking out her hair as she heads to the shower. She idly glances into the living room, spots the outline of —

Every nerve in her body cringes to attention as her heart thumps wildly, eyes widening as she spins back with a gasp. She staggers against the wall, shivering even though her face feels hot, pulling up the strap and instinctively crossing her arms to cover herself.

— Ben stares back at her with a tense jaw and inquiring gaze. In long basketball shorts and nothing else. His chest is broad with a dim sheen of drying water, his dark hair tucked behind prominent ears. His hands drop to his sides from his waistband, wide shoulders rising with a deep inhale.

Neither of them speak. Neither of them look away. She inches her feet together to close her legs tighter. Chews her lip, traces the lines of his abs towards his hips, watches his fingers twitch nervously. Keeps noticing his body in her periphery, even though she knows she shouldn't be.

A weight drops hard in her stomach, heavy with understanding and something else she can't define.

✖❌✖❌

Should he greet her?

…A reaction as absurd as the situation itself, to consider the _social conventions_ of his circumstances. Rey cowers back against the wall where the antique shelves used to be in the den, trying to hide behind her long limbs. All her skin is smooth and tanned, freckled along her shoulders & arms. Patches of sand cake down her calves, her thighs press together unconsciously. Her face is delicate without a scowl, flushed deeply with her shined lips parted in shock. Her body seems softer than he remembers contrasted against the bold pink of her one-piece swimsuit, cut high at her hips. Somehow sunkissed a little brighter than the cloudy afternoon's light in the room.

She seems gentle. Almost vulnerable. Probably scared. And he keeps standing there gawking at her like a buffoon. Rey breaks the silence first, shifting her weight on her feet,

"I'd rather not do this right now."

"Me too," he answers lamely, frowning at the jeans draped over the sofa's armrest.

One common thread in her appearances is the den apparently. Hadn't considered it when leaving out a change of clothes down here. His muscles are unwound with exertion & relaxed from washing up after an unexpectedly long time spent out in the shed. But he gets that crawling feeling of hairs raising on the back of his neck, creeping to remind him that something is amiss. He tries not to stare at the places where the fabric clings against her flesh, peeks away from where it hugs her entrance and pulls her thighs.

She scrunches her nose in deliberation for a few seconds. Suddenly she springs from her perch, marching up to him with her arms still crossed.

"So what do we do?" she asks, halting at the other side of the couch.

No point in lying. "I don't know."

Rey nods, glancing around the room with an exasperated sigh. Ben only recalls the empty recliner in the photo she showed him, wonders if her walls are painted or papered. If she wanders under cramped spaces or high vaulted ceilings, if she swam at a river or a beach. She lowers to sit at the edge of the sofa and tries again,

"Just wait for it to stop?"

The house is hushed and still, lengthening the seconds as she unfolds to grab an object at her side. A swath of fabric bunches in her grip, unrolling into view as she sweeps it over herself —

A blanket. Rey rearranges it around her shoulders with a visible shudder. She stretches just long enough for him to see the swimsuit sticking to her round little tits, the material damp with wet streaks from her hair. Her hardened nipples perk up and out. She skims the sand off her calves with the sides of her feet, shaking it onto the floor. Then hides her body underneath her cover, rustling the sofa's cushions as she adjusts her hips.

Ben hasn't answered yet, but she isn't really looking at him at all. Leans against the opposite armrest, not realizing she's staring at the blank TV screen. He continues to observe her in profile when he takes a seat, too stunned by her reappearance to remember to put on his shirt.

"Wait for it to stop," he echoes. "And start again. Until we know what it is."

Ben reclines with one elbow on the armrest, feet planted on the carpet. Studies how her eyelashes flutter closed, how she hunches forward a bit when lost in thought — too organic and too _present_ not to be real. He wants to hear her voice again, clears his throat and finds somewhere to begin,

"Did you… enjoy your swim?"

She turns to meet his gaze, head slightly tilted like she's confirming she heard him correctly. "…Yes."

"Where did you go?"

She blinks. "Walked to the beach."

"Must be nice. Only trees outside here."

Rey makes an obvious effort not to turn away. The blanket lumps as she gestures towards his chest. "Were you —"

"No." Ben taps his fingers. "Just in the shower."

She acknowledges him with another distant nod. Might have walked in on him if she appeared only a bit earlier. Her cheeks flush like it just occurred to her too.

"Is it just… happening randomly?" Rey suggests.

Her words twirl up in an airy girlish way like she's really hoping he knows. Ben works to maintain a stoic demeanor, trying to appear more confident than he really is with a casual shrug,

"Could be."

"Have you — ever even heard of anything like this before?" She recrosses her arms under the cover, already physically bracing herself for another useless response. 

"Can't say I have," Ben admits.

Rey sits up straighter. "Have you told anyone? About…"

She trails off instead of attempting any definition, indicating the space between them with her finger poking out from the blanket.

Ben shakes his head. "I haven't."

"…Neither have I."

Rey goes quiet again, anxiously patters her feet. He's barely been able to convince himself this is happening, much less explain it to another. All her tiny motions are fast and nervous, even her glimpses over his exposed torso. He catches her eyes dart lower towards his shorts, at the loose fabric pooled by his hips. Her cheeks blush deeper when their gazes meet briefly.

And she frowns away to the TV again. Ben swallows hard, knows he should get dressed, but —

Rey looks so… cute, stealing quick glances of his body. Bashfully trying to hide how she appraises him physically, how she subtly tenses her posture peeking at his mouth. He probably shouldn't enjoy seeing her flustered but hasn't had anyone _look_ at him like that in a couple years. At least.

And that way she squirms when she speaks again is like something from a fantasy. "Do you… have any company?"

"No," he answers too quickly. "I live alone."

Rey nods again. "Me too."

He inches forward to observe her reaction when he quips, "Would have picked up more if I knew to expect visitors."

She smiles at that, thin and a little forced, but it lifts her features with an innocent sweetness just like he thought it would. He memorizes the upward turn of her lips. His stomach drops to remind him to stop leering before she thinks he's a creep.

Rey scratches her neck. "Did you have somewhere to be?"

"No," he replies. "Did you?"

"Not really," she murmurs. He can tell she isn't sure. About whether she has plans, whether she should try to change, whether she should recite all her questions aloud — certain about nothing at all.

Just like him.

Their predicament acts as an unspoken wedge nonetheless. Ben hurries to fill another awkward silence growing between them,

"— What do you do?" It slips out before he remembers he'll need to answer too.

"Bartender." Rey flashes a lopsided grin, amused by the attempt at conversation. "Volunteer at an aquarium. You make a… glamorous living?"

He can't help chuckling at the thought. "Recently took over my father's diner."

"Family business?"

"Not really."

Thankfully she doesn't make him elaborate. "You come to Florida often?"

"No." There's a beat. "Not at all."

Rey rewraps her blanket as a shiver runs through her, furrowing her brows in concentration. "Well…" She sharpens her tone. "We won't be able to stop this until we know what it is."

"Sounds right," Ben agrees, noting how eager she is to get rid of him already.

"We just need to —" A determination hardens her features as a plan clicks into place. "We just need to work backwards. Find the patterns."

Rey says it loudly like she's trying to convince herself. Her logic seems sound. He has no better idea of his own.

"All three times have been in my den," Ben offers. "On the couch —"

"Twice on the couch." She bites inside her cheek. Looks down and up again. "Once on the chair —"

She flinches when he moves to rest his elbows on his knees, rushing to press her back against the armrest like a little critter. Messy locks of hair fall over her cheeks as she shakes her head and apologizes,

"Sorry, I'm just…" She sinks into her seat, resting a palm on her forehead.

"…It's okay," he says, keeping his voice low. "We'll figure it out or it'll stop on its own."

"Right…"

She sighs, appears to be watching the window above the sofa. Clouds cover the sun and shadow her in a dingy gray. He spots her wiggle her toes, blow away more strands of hair sticking to her skin. Tuck in the corner of blanket that flops open by her collarbone.

"Do you have a — a towel or something you can put on?"

Oh. Right. Ben rushes to his feet, mortified by how long he allowed himself to get carried away. He sputters an apology,

"Yeah, sure, sorry —"

"It's — It's okay —"

Ben stops and looks back, already about to exit the den. "Sorry," he repeats.

"If it stops when you walk out —" She pauses when he meets her widened eyes. "That'll be the third time it ended when one of us left."

A pattern. An initial test. "Yes."

"See you later, maybe." Her grin is stiff and her words stilted like she chooses them carefully. "If I don't see you in a minute."

Ben has no idea what to say. "Yeah. See you later, maybe."

He raps his knuckles on the wall, floorboards creaking as he trudges from the den. Swears he can feel her watching him go. That lightbulb he needs to change in the foyer flickers as he passes underneath. Ben hovers his palm a couple inches above the railing, pulse thumping loudly in his ears as he starts to ascend the stairs —

He pauses mid-step. Fucking idiot. His shirt is right there in the den. Crumpled next to the couch from when he pushed it off the armrest taking a seat.

Ben hurries back.

She's already gone.

He pads to her end of the sofa, crouches to kneel at the edge and rest his hand on the empty space. The cushion is warm. There's a damp patch on the back from her hair. He bends down and inhales deeply, rubbing his face in the fabric and faintly smelling seawater mixed with sweat. Imagines what he would see walking in on himself, pathetically sniffing the couch to persuade himself that she was really there.

He sits back on his heels, paling with shame. The picture of her smile is brighter in his mind than in reality — wide and relaxed below red cheeks —

_Fuck, I need to get out more._

✖❌✖❌

Rey doesn't move from her spot, even though she knows Ben isn't coming back. He walked into her bedroom over twenty minutes ago. The moment ended when he left, just as she said, but it doesn't explain the time before. When she turned her back to fill a glass of water and silently prayed for him to _go away._

She fidgets beneath the blanket still tented over her knees. Her swimsuit is completely dried, her frizzing hair getting there too. She twirls a lock around one finger. Hears her neighbor slam the front door going inside. A part of her expects her apartment to seem different, but having her worst suspicions confirmed leaves everything… oddly unchanged.

It happened a third time and probably will again. Maybe next time she'll even maintain her composure instead of stammering like a flustered teenage girl. She cringes recalling her obvious gawking, like she's never seen a shirtless man before. But the way he trailed her skinny gangly figure crossing the room, studied her movements as they spoke and rarely looked away — kept making her overly aware of where she rested her legs —

Ben seemed so _interested_ in everything she said. Seemed so interested in _her._

And she enjoyed it. The attention.

Rey winces at her own confession, feeling pathetic even though she only says it to herself. She throws off the blanket and flees into the shower, stepping in to scrub down before the water has time to warm. The chill does nothing to quell her distracting thoughts as she keeps replaying their interaction — keeps recalling his deep voice, intense stare, and the moments when the tension wound so hard that she could faintly smell his soap.

"Stop," Rey literally tells herself when she closes the water.

She counts to three before fleeing into her room, slamming the door behind her and spinning to check he isn't there. That distant sense of observation remains despite being alone, the suggestion even more pointed than earlier. She rushes to dress and flops onto her bed, bending her toes to nudge the edge of her phone. Unable to decide _which_ part of the past couple days is most overwhelming. Unable to determine the next _rational_ step.

But absolutely certain she needs to get the fuck out of the house.

Finn declines her idea for an early dinner, suggests she comes over to watch a movie with him and Rose instead. Rey kills the time in the parking lot of a drive-through, loses half her bag of fries when a motorcycle backfires and she drops them all over the passenger seat. The guard at the front desk recognizes her when she arrives at the condo, doesn't ask for Finn's code before paging his unit to let her in. The harsh white light in the elevator highlights every line in her face, aging her a bit beyond her twenty-three years.

Rose seems a little tired when she answers the door, wearing yoga pants and a half-hearted smile. Rey turns down a drink, sits on the worn leather couch she napped on when they lived together not all that long ago. Finn and Rose's familiar belongings seem strange, now all cobbled together to create their own unique aesthetic in their clinically new & modern open-plan living space. Their home is on the mainland with long square windows overlooking the river separating it from the beachside, sprinkled with dock lights and a large swath of parking lot when standing close to examine the full view. Rose leans on the fake marble kitchen island, sipping juice and scrolling her phone's screen distractedly.

Rey gets the sense she shouldn't ask about what happened with her sister in Tampa. She notices some framed photos switched around. "Got it all unpacked after all."

"Some boxes left in the extra bedroom, but mostly, yeah," Rose provides conversationally.

Low music plays from the wireless device plugged on a decorative table below the windows, too soft to really recognize or hear. Water runs in another room, followed by footsteps pacing somewhere out of view. Both women look up when Finn enters, hands stuffed in the pockets of his navy blue jeans. Rey folds hers on her lap, unsure where to keep them placed.

"Hey," he greets, taking a remote from a basket by the TV. He switches it on, tinkers with the inputs to pull up a movie streaming service. "Get lost in the ocean again?"

Rey shrugs, adjusts a tank top strap itching her sunburnt shoulders. "You could say that."

"End up going out yesterday?"

"Nah, had a headache," she lies. "Kind of a long day."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

Finn aimlessly toggles among featured images and snippet summaries, barely acknowledging Rey's arrival beyond his polite muttering. Rose glances up from her phone, says "heard that one was good" and "isn't that the one Poe was talking about the other day" and other off-hand remarks. Rey nods, repeating Rose's "sure" when Finn settles on a sci-fi movie she's fallen asleep to before. He makes popcorn, sits far away on the other side of the sofa. Circles his arm around Rose when she flops between them and rests her head by his chest. Rey is mostly silent instead of participating in their occasional commentary and jokes. Feels like they're speaking more to one another than her anyways.

She slumps into the couch's leather, rests her chin on one fist and watches the evening sky darken outside. It seems too weird to tell Finn with Rose sitting there, no matter how much she tries to explain it away. Rose is a real friend. She knows and understands her history and friendship with Finn. But those years aren't there and this is just too _close_ to share with her, a conversation to be had with someone she can trust to care eternally. Someone more family than friend.

If that's still the case, she considers, glancing over when Finn yawns and Rose stirs to resettle her cheek.

"Thought you napped earlier," Rose murmurs.

"Car only half-counts," he responds. 

"So much for sleeping in."

"Did you… head out early?" Rey attempts.

"Yeah, Paige had to go pick up some guy at the airport or some shit," Rose groans. "I don't know," she adds exasperatedly.

Obviously not in the mood to discuss anymore. Their usual bickering boiling over to explosion probably. The kind of inconvenience that seems like a privilege to Rey. Having an actual sibling to argue with. Finn grabs a beer, rests his feet on their ottoman and looks pleasantly at ease.

The timing is all off. Rey knows them both well enough to tell they're tuning down for the night. Bleary eyes, stilted voices, and curled postures like they would… kind of prefer to be alone. Maybe she's even intruding, maybe Finn invited her over to be polite. Or just more worn out than they realized and she's reading into it too much and should probably —

"I…"

Rey opens her mouth to speak. Neither of them look up. She feels like another piece of newly-placed old furniture.

"…I should go."

Finn jerks his head, starting to doze off. "Movie's not even done yet."

"It's okay," she insists, coming to a stand. "I'm kind of tired too."

Rose lies on her back, raising her eyebrows. "Are you sure? You don't have to —"

"It's okay, yeah —"

Rey grabs her totebag slung onto one of the reupholstered dining area chairs beneath the framed Mucha posters and Rose's postcard collage. Could display the place in the complex's sample brochure. Finn twists around and scratches his neck as Rey approaches the doorknob to go,

"Text me when you're back?"

"Sure."

"Drive safe," Rose calls after her, "Are you sure —"

"Yeah, I'll see you soon." Too high-pitched to sound totally casual. "Have a good night."

Rey isn't sure what she expected. Why she continues hoping that her friendships with them would be like _before_, despite playing third wheel for how many months now. The trip back seems longer than it really is, catching red lights and only finding shitty songs on the radio. She doesn't hesitate after unlocking the front door, rushing into the apartment as her vision mists with tears. The lights stay off again. She paces her room a couple times, sends the obligatory text to Finn and receives a smiley face back. She spins around to check the corners' shadows before finding sleepwear and crawling into bed.

She flips on the nightstand lamp, unsuccessfully tries to read a book on her cracked tablet. Peeks at her open bedroom door every few paragraphs to check if any shadows have grown or moved. Checks her notifications before plugging in her phone and retrieves the photo of her empty recliner again. Surely her story would make its way to Rose even if she spoke with Finn privately. Rey briefly pictures them talking about her in low voices, Rose crossing her arms with a somber nod as Finn relays his concerns. Their imagined expressions carve a hollow of shame in her ribs that feels heavy and too _near_ to dismiss immediately.

Tomorrow. She can worry about this again tomorrow.

Her t-shirt stings against her sunburn. Normally she'd just remove it and burrow into her comforter to feel its fabric cool her bared skin. Temporarily abstaining should be a minor thing, but feels more like being forced to accept she cannot rely on having privacy. Not until she knows more —

_Tomorrow,_ she reminds herself as she closes the light and rolls over in bed. Distantly aware that she's consciously acting out this modesty. Rey squeezes her eyes closed, imagines the end of her mattress sinking under Ben's weight. She falls asleep before it occupies her long, all her thoughts collapsing into a perfect pitch black…

…that melts to gray and brightens until her hand dissolves into view, clasping an object at the end of her outstretched arm. A green cardboard square. With a shrink-wrapped straw glued to the side.

A juicebox. She passes it to a little girl with a wide headband who points to where Rey's hips should be and asks,

_Are there any corn chips?_

Rey stands next to crates of pre-packaged snacks. A burst of laughter makes her look up to the cloud-studded blue sky. Directs her gaze to a playground swarming with kids in matching neon t-shirts. Same one she's wearing, and the girl who wants corn chips too.

Rey hears herself answer, not controlling what she's saying, _You like Fritos or Bugles?_

Lucid enough to recognize her dream is a warped memory of chaperoning a camp field trip. She gives out more snacks to increasingly faceless children and shouts "knock it off" a handful of times to figures running fast enough to blur into wisps of smoke. But none of it feels eerie or strange. The sun is pleasant. The breeze is cool. The manicured lawn smells recently mowed.

Rey smiles seeing the lighthouse towering over the park. Hears the hiss of a bus stopping to load up that deflates to a buzzing until Rey wakes up out of breath.

✖❌✖❌

"Fuck yeah — deeper, baby —"

The woman in the video has most of her face turned away, bent over a table with a wide hand clutching her hip. Her partner films them with a handheld camera, making some portions unsteady as he changes perspective and zooms in close. The moaning is loud, exaggerated but not entirely fake. Brown hair parts by her freckled shoulders, frames her wobbly arms and thin figure.

"Mmm, yeah, so deep —"

The hand slides down to grab her ass hard. The phone tilts awkwardly in Ben's grip, glowing with a tiny halo in the dark & quiet bedroom. His abs tense as he speeds up his wrist, as his nerves key higher to flood the pit below his stomach with a churning heat. That lurid clicking sound his foreskin makes grows loud in time with his motions.

He glances up to confirm the bedroom door is still closed. Not that it makes much difference. For all he knows Rey could appear inside it anyway, the lock's boundary more symbolic than anything. But he can't sleep and has to go to the diner early tomorrow. Willing to risk her seeing him when it doesn't take long to get off alone.

The woman's skin is tanned, her bottom smooth all curved out like a display waiting to be touched. A pair of thick fingers unfold her cunt, shining pink between her thighs. They pump into her opening with a vulgar slick noise, withdraw to smear her wetness along her tailbone.

"I'm so wet for you, don't stop —"

Her voice pitches just right. And Ben knows he's really thinking about Rey even though he shouldn't be, realized it as he selected the video thumbnail. The frame pans close to the tip of the cameraman's cock as he smudges over it with his thumb, shakes when he pushes inside her entrance. The woman whimpers and Ben lowers the volume to concentrate on how her cunt shapes to bounce against his length.

Ben closes his eyes briefly, pictures pulling aside a strip of bright pink fabric between little opened legs. Curling around to feel a damp heat against his fingertips. Hearing his name sighed like a guarded secret just for them alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [SaveTheSpaceWhales](https://archiveofourown.org/users/awishman) and [weddersins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weddersins) for taking a look at this chapter for me 💌
> 
> Fingers crossed for Ch 6 being drafted as quickly, excited for what's to come next. Been having a lot of fun writing this and thank you for coming along on the ride 🙂 Still posting update links on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/theselittlefics) xoxo


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little longer between updates than expected 😅 Thank you for reading and for your feedback. Surprised & flattered that anyone is reading this little experiment + pleased you've enjoyed so far. Here goes 🙈

Ben hurries to dress after sleeping through his alarm, combs his fingers through his hair as he spits out his mouthwash before rushing from the house. The sky is still mostly dark with a dingy yellow bordering the tops of all the oak & maple trees, gets brighter as the car meanders down the same sleepy winding roads. He stops short when the headlamps illuminate a couple deer by a sharp curve, drives by them slowly to make sure they don't dart into the street. Last thing he needs is to fuck up the Benz on top of everything else.

He doesn't think about Rey at all until he's already at the diner, approaching the entrance with his hands in his pockets and a scowl on his face. No one says anything about him being late. A server whose name he can't remember is refilling the table caddies with sugar packets. A line cook ties on his apron and offers a curt nod. Ben goes into the back for bags of coffee, nearly dropping them all to the ground when he glances to the office-closet.

The door is slightly ajar. Normally this wouldn't concern him but he's pretty sure it shouldn't be. Only him, Chewie, and one other guy have the keys. Ben opens it with his shoulder, peeks inside to see everything laying still. An awareness chills his spine like it's being observed.

Ben spins around. Something metal rattles in the kitchen. No one is there.

_Of course._

He isn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. Even if Rey appearing out here would be more unnerving than a pleasant surprise. Whatever is happening between them has so far stayed isolated to the house. Maybe he opened a dimensional wormhole by napping too much on the couch, he deadpans internally. Only half-joking. It's entirely possible at this point.

Ben loses a couple bags as he twists to close the door, tries to play it off quickly by picking them up. He dumps them on the counter, tears open a new set of coffee filters and pauses before filling the machines with water. He put on his grandfather's ring out of habit as he scrambled to get ready, even though he never wears it here. Ben stuffs it in the back pocket of his trousers and shakes his head.

He falls into the familiar routine of opening shift, letting his gaze trail the movements of his hands as he completes his tasks. He flips on the front sign, leans on the counter by the register with a fresh cup of coffee. Within fifteen minutes some regulars arrive and the pace stays steady enough to distract him for most of the morning. The server he's filling in for calls to let Ben know he'll be running late, but should be there before noon. The dining room hums with conversation and activity, the time passes quickly, and for some hours Ben's restless thoughts are eased — when he lets his mind be dormant in his body like a ghost in a machine.

He stands at the counter filling a large order of egg sandwiches for a construction crew, checking the abbreviations scrawled onto the wrappers and placing them in paper bags. A sharp knocking cuts through the clanks & clatters from the kitchen that Ben recognizes as jewelry tapping the counter, from having done the same countless times before.

"Just a sec," he grunts, folding down the bags. He turns to see an older man, skinny and pale under his tailored suit jacket. A gold band circles one of his long bony fingers. His deeply-lined face creases as he acknowledges Ben with a nod.

Ben takes the completed order to a gangly kid wearing a reflective orange vest at the register. Notices the man at the counter still watching him in his periphery. _Impatient boomer,_ Ben grumbles as he tears the receipt from the printer. He approaches with a perfunctory greeting in a clipped tone,

"May I help you?"

"Yes," he responds, "you may."

His voice is deeper than Ben expects, wobbling with a rattle like he struggles for breath. He clears his throat and Ben raises his eyebrows waiting for his order,

"…Yes?"

"Some earl gray tea," he wheezes. "A buttered roll." He points to the clear-wrapped pile in a decorative basket by the register, expecting Ben to serve it instead of grabbing one himself.

"You got it," Ben grunts, handing the man a roll and striding away to fill a cup with hot water. Bobs the teabag a few more times than usual, the guy looks like the type who'd send back his drink for being unflavored before it has time to steep. He even squeezes the bread with one shaky frail hand as if he doubts it's fresh.

"Anything else?" Ben offers, starting to ring him up.

"Maybe," he replies with a thin smirk that narrows his beady eyes. He holds out a pair of crumpled five dollar bills in a fist. "You're Han Solo's son, aren't you?"

"Yeah." Ben is used to it. From what he's gathered his parents were social and well-liked around town. "You knew him too?"

Doesn't look like someone from cards or the tracks. None of those guys have had well-cut clothes and clean fingernails. They wear flashy gold Rolex watches instead of sleeves past their wrists. Maybe he's from the Downtown Preservation Committee. Or one of many shady characters who threatened to break his father's knees.

"In a manner of speaking." The man studies Ben's face as he gives him back one the fives and counts out his change. "More your mother and her family than his." He folds the bills into a jade-lined silver money clip, slides the coins back across the counter. "Haven't seen you here since you were a young man."

Ben shrugs. "I've been around." The diner's phone rings. "Is there, uh, anything else I can —"

"No, this will do." Finally he picks up his roll and cup of tea. He pauses a beat. "You remind me of your grandfather quite a bit."

Ben swallows hard, breaking his gaze when one of the servers sidles behind him to pick up the call. Probably misheard. No one outside his family has mentioned any of his grandparents before. He plucks the coins from the counter to busy his hands and clears his throat,

"Uh, thanks, my —"

The man raises his cup a bit to mimic a toast. The teabag's logo tag dangles over his prominent knuckles. "To a pleasant afternoon."

Ben drops the change into the charity box the local animal shelter left out for their spring fundraiser. Taps his fingers along the register's raised buttons and watches the old man as he goes, pursing his curled lips to sip on his drink. He holds the door open for the server who called earlier, hurrying to thank Ben as he unzips his jacket.

"Hey man, thanks again —"

"Sure." Ben isn't listening, starts fixing himself coffee to take home. Tries to ignore the tightness winding harder in his ribs. He closes out a couple more tickets before he drops his apron in the back and locks the office. He pokes his head in the kitchen to remind the cook to complete the order list for Chewie before leaving, grateful he won't run into him at all today.

The ring is still in Ben's pocket, stings his backside when he flops into the car with a long sigh. His knees bump the steering wheel as he takes it out and puts it back on. The high noon's sun catches the stone as he drums the dashboard, still working to unfreeze his nerves. _His grandfather._ The jackass didn't even give him a moment to ask anything else. Maybe he should have chased him or at least asked for a name.

Ben tries to dismiss his apprehension as paranoia but the comment is unlikely to be a coincidence. Not after his grandfather's ring left that mark on Rey's skin, still somewhat visible when he saw her yesterday. And when it happened to be in his pocket after wearing it accidentally today.

_Work backwards. Find the patterns._

Ben starts the car, meets his reflection in the rearview mirror. He has few leads available and contacting his uncle is out of the question — only as a last resort. Pursuing the symbol on the medallion in the box could lead to more information. Or just more shit that doesn't make sense.

He drives back with the radio off and the window down, stops at the post office along the way. Throws away the ad flyers and folds another bank letter into his pocket with a frown. The house is almost inviting when he arrives, bright with sunlight and birds chirping in the tall trees. He twists the ring on his finger walking to the front door, hesitates to check over his shoulder before entering.

Ben kicks off his shoes in the foyer, cuts into the den to leave the new letter bent on top of the rising stack. His shirt smells like toast and cleaning solution, reminds him that he should check the house before showering to confirm Rey isn't there.

Assuming she's real. A part of him continues to doubt.

He wanders into the kitchen looking down at his phone, swiping aside notifications mostly unaware of his surroundings. More ads. Suggested links. A mass invite to a gallery opening in New York City. He takes a can of soda from the fridge, halting mid-stride as the door swings softly closed. Hears a gentle scraping sound to his side, twirling rhythmically like a stirring spoon.

He hides his phone, sees Rey standing at the counter with her face angled away. She paces a couple feet, tosses her silverware to the surface casually. _Into an unseen sink,_ Ben concludes as it disappears leaving her grasp with a tiny clink. Her loose tye-dye t-shirt conceals her waist, shrugs down over her high-cut cotton shorts that reveal her long toned legs. Her presence seems more vivid than her surroundings, like she's cast by a stronger natural lighting than the kitchen. She wears her hair pulled up in three buns and itches the nape of her neck with a yawn.

Kind of nice seeing her. Like a secret left for him to find when he comes to the house, a mirage of having actual company.

"Afternoon," Ben says.

She flinches reflexively, pressing a palm onto the surface to regain her bearings. Her shoulders fall with a sigh,

"…Guess I shouldn't be surprised."

"Nice to see you too."

Rey turns around with an oversized mug in one hand, messily painted with wobbly flowers under a thick clear glaze. She leans back against the counter, glancing down to Ben's feet,

"Are you in your den again?"

She sips her drink, folding her other arm over her chest with the same guarded posture as yesterday. Her cheeks are slightly pink from washing, her features striking even with half-lidded eyes that make it obvious that she woke up not too long ago.

"No. Kitchen this time." The soda can cracks open with a hiss and Rey stirs like she heard it too.

She lowers her drink. "Different room?"

"Yeah."

"Same one for me." Rey gestures towards the cutting board left out beside her with her mug. "Just have this… kitchen area thing in the main room. Not that you can see."

Her description helps to provide some context nonetheless. "Sounds cozy."

"— Small, you mean."

"Cozy," he repeats, drinking some soda.

"Well, it _is_ small," Rey replies. "Main room. Bedroom. Bathroom. That's it."

"Thought square footage was cheap down there."

"Not if you want to walk to the beach." She shrugs. "Everywhere else, sure."

Small talk never comes easy for Ben and his attempt to be… polite feels even more strained than usual. She crosses her legs at her ankles, appears to be observing the sliding glass door to the porch.

"You go often?" he tries.

"Hm?"

"To the beach."

"Yeah." Ben follows her hand as she rests her drink on the counter. The mug fades to disappear into the tile backsplash when it leaves her grip. "Was kind of the whole point in coming here," she adds before changing the topic quickly. "So I showed up somewhere different?"

Straight to the matter. "Still in the house." She does a poor job of pretending to be relaxed. Ben asks, "Were you… getting ready to leave?"

Rey shakes her head. "Not really. Couple hours before my shift."

"Just got back from mine."

"Any fun plans for your afternoon?" she says distractedly.

Ben isn't sure why he bothers. "Of course not," he tuts, far more bitterly than intended.

She definitely notices, raises her eyebrows. "Sore spot?"

His cheeks warm peeking up to see her studying his expression with a piercing stare that's cool & inquisitive like she's insightful beyond her years. And capable of seeing through any lie he could formulate.

Ben mumbles, "Sorry, I —"

Rey raises a hand to signal a stop. "On edge." She grins sheepishly. "I get it. Trust me."

Ben supposes things should be awkward given their unprecedented circumstances, and that's before factoring in his tendency to make everything worse. But talking quietly in his parents' kitchen feels almost natural, even if not totally comfortable. Like an acquaintance forced to spend the evening due to poor weather. Or a hastily-made breakfast the morning after hooking up at a bar.

He reminds himself he shouldn't think about her that way. "On edge," he echoes. "Yeah."

He knocks the refrigerator out of habit, occupying his hands with nervous energy. The ring raps loudly against the surface, directing Rey's attention to his fingers.

"Your ring," she comments. "It burned me, you know." She rolls up her sleeve to display her arm. "Mostly gone now."

"I remember," Ben says. She wiggles pulling down the bottom of her shirt. The fabric is thin, falls to outline the shape of her breasts. "Did it scar?"

"Not badly." She bends to pick up her mug and Ben studies how it dissolves into view once again, fully appearing a moment before it reaches her lips. "Where did you get that thing?"

Ben fidgets with the band. "Belonged to my grandfather."

"Any story there?"

"Maybe." He answers truthfully, "Barely know anything about him."

"Convenient," she mutters, blowing a piece of fallen hair from her nose. She pushes off the counter, takes a long swig of her drink. "So what do we do now?"

His throat dries, drawn to her tits swaying with her gentle steps. Her nipples poke out prominently again and Ben feels like a stupid horny teenager for noticing she isn't wearing a bra. Not as if she did it for him.

Ben repeats her words for the second time today. "Work backwards. Find the patterns."

For some reason that makes her smile — broad and genuine, brightening her teeth and entire face. Like she's flattered he remembered. She even laughs. "Well, I don't know shit about your grandpa. Any other suggestions?"

Ben pauses to come up with something. "Explore the mechanics some more." Another beat. "Maybe figure out how it stops and starts."

"Good idea."

She spins around to clean her cup, waving her hands to mime pulling levers by the cutting board. Water rushes distantly like pipes flushing upstairs. Ben keeps observing her interactions with their rooms' mismatching geography, searching for consistency in what does and doesn't appear.

This is so fucking weird. The soda even tastes flat. He returns the can to the fridge.

"Every time has been in or around your den," she reviews. "And stopped when one of us left. Or cut away."

Ben wants to see her face again. He approaches, rests his elbows on the counter and lowers his line of sight. She scrubs a small clear plate with a generic yellow sponge a couple inches above the surface. Soapy bubbles drip off the sides without pooling below.

"…Right," he agrees softly, reeling from the scene.

Rey startles from his voice, the dish vanishing as she drops it. "I — didn't —"

"On edge?"

She shakes the water from her palms, wipes them on her shirt and smirks. "…Maybe."

Ben assumes he imagines the knowing hint to her tone, tries to keep his eyes on hers instead of her tits when she stretches with her hands clasped behind her back. Brings one up to fiddle with her hair as she continues, "We should see if it cuts off consistently. Come up with some ideas for when it starts again."

Sounds reasonable enough. Another logical test. A pang of disappointment beats across his chest that he dismisses. Unsure how he let his wishful thinking get even a little carried away into thinking she might be enjoying his company. 

"Alright," Ben agrees. The curve of her throat moves as she swallows. He tenses his jaw. "Should I be going then, or —"

"Oh, uh —"

She slouches and those graceful fingers scurry to hide away. Her eyes widen bashfully like he caught her doing… something.

"— Yeah, you should test it. Different rooms."

"Right." Ben fidgets with the ring again, pivoting to leave. "See you later, maybe."

He pauses at the entry, glancing back to see that girlish blush staining her skin once more. Her lips are already parted to speak,

"…You too."

And he nods, trudging away with heavy footsteps that match the weight dropping through his knees. Feels her gaze on his spine as he forces himself to leave.

✖❌✖❌

Rey's pulse beats loudly in her ears watching him go.

Ben was definitely checking her out. Peeked down at her body when she stretched to arch her back — _to push out her tits,_ she tells herself honestly. Her face still feels hot as she works to even her breaths, reeling from her own impulsivity.

She shouldn't be so flattered by him simply remembering their prior conversation. Or keep entertaining that part of her distracted by his voice and lips. For all she knows he could be living in a hoard of mannequins and taxidermied wildlife. Be involved in serious organized crime. Have a communicable disease. Or a spouse somewhere. 

_It doesn't matter that he's attractive,_ Rey reminds herself as he exits in a different direction from his kitchen. His hair flops a bit with his clipped gait. Instinctively she expects him to pause at the front door to use the knob but he doesn't see it.

Rey flinches with a gasp watching him phase through the door, vanishing into the solid wood like a portal. But unlike the first time he appeared, she hears faint footsteps trailing away. They circle back overhead, muffled through the ceiling along the roof. She concentrates on the small sounds, gripping the countertop behind her to center her focus. They grow louder, dropping back onto the floor to her side — 

Only seconds pass but each one weighs heavier with both anticipation and dread. Already expecting it when Ben walks out of her bedroom. He drops onto her couch and buries his face in his hands with a long and heavy sigh.

"…Fucking idiot," he mutters under his breath.

He holds position for a beat. Picks up his head and cringes to attention when he meets her widened eyes.

"How did you — beat me here?" he asks, leaning to check something behind her.

Rey tries to find some words. "I- I haven't moved at all."

"Are you sure?"

She can't tell if he's nervous or suspicious. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Well." Ben slumps into his seat, resting his head to watch his ceiling. She wonders if it's higher there than here. "That's interesting."

"Yeah." A pattern broken already. She swallows the lump in her throat, less frightened by his reappearance than she predicted when she'd considered the possibility of Ben's… visits extending.

Ben breaks the silence again, still looking away. "What did you see? Just now. When I came in."

"You, uh… poofed through the front door." Ben follows her finger as she gestures towards it. "And came back in from the other room."

"Huh." He sits up at that, perching to rest his elbows on his knees. His drained expression belies how dumbfounded he is despite his unwavering tone. "I just left you in the kitchen and find you in the den."

Maybe he somehow changed the link. Rey asks, "Bump into anything in between?"

"Nothing besides you."

"My condolences," she quips.

Ben smirks and replies, "Could be worse."

Rey forces up the corners of her lips, trying to appear wry as her cheeks heat again. The vulnerability in his thin smile is charming somehow, even if he's probably used the same one while being a huge jerk. Like he was at Poe's party, she reminds herself, before allowing her baser whims to captain her thoughts even more. Her eyes dart to her feet as she clears her throat, pushing off the kitchenette counter. She crosses her arms trying to extinguish the flutter in her chest. Ben's gaze is almost physical still, making her overly conscious of her stride as she joins him by the couch. Circles the ottoman to halt only a few inches from his knees.

He glances down her legs briefly. Tilts his chin up to see her face. Her shorts seem too near against her thighs feeling that same sensation of him looming from below.

"Were we… doing something different, maybe?" Her voice sounds strange to her own ears.

"I don't —" Ben furrows his brows, watches the entrance to her bedroom. Probably replaying their conversation just as she is. "…I don't think so."

He taps along one knee. Same nervous habit as before, when he knocked his long fingers against an invisible vertical surface with a distant metallic noise. Rey recalls,

"What about your ring?"

Ben doesn't stir. "What about it?"

"Were you wearing it the other times?"

He blinks. "I'm not sure."

Rey is fairly confident she would have mentioned it, if he had been. Given how much she keeps noticing his hands. But says,

"I don't remember either" and chews her lip. "Well, um…"

Rey spins to scan her living room, pausing on the vacant space above the TV. The front closet slatted open. Her baseball bat propped against the wall beside it.

_Explore the mechanics some more —_

Wait a second. Rey marches over to pick up the bat, twirling around to see Ben's eyebrows raised.

"It's safe, I promise," she jokes, smacking the end of it in her open palm as she returns to the couch. "Just got an idea."

Rey sits closer to his side instead of shrinking against the opposite armrest like yesterday. She lays the bat across her lap, the tip only a couple inches from poking Ben's leg. Keeps her fingers curled around its barrel & grip.

"You can see it, right?" she confirms.

"Yes."

Rey lifts her hands. The bat wobbles to stay balanced on her body. "Now?"

"Yes." Ben's hair falls over his face as he studies her motions.

A vague scent of sweat flowers in her nose. Rey scoots to the edge of her seat, dips to rest the bat on the ottoman gingerly. She freezes, not letting it go, exaggerating the angle of her bowed posture. That flutter returns spotting Ben glimpse over her figure, at the shape of her tits through her shirt. All of it obvious despite his attempt to be stealthy.

_Stop testing him._ Her throat moves as she swallows and parts her lips to speak —

"Still there," he says, anticipating her question correctly.

She nods. "Okay. And…"

Rey raises her hands, hovering them above the bat. It rolls over a bit. She flashes Ben a lopsided smile.

"…How about now?"

He shakes his head. "Gone."

Imminent discovery rushes her limbs and she blurts excitedly, "Wait — Okay, how about —"

Rey reaches down to hold the bat.

"— Now?"

Her heart patters meeting Ben's eyes. He nods slowly like he's realizing the same thing when he replies,

"…I see it."

"And?" She lifts her hands once more.

"And it's gone."

"So s- some objects appear on contact," she concludes, trying not to waver too much. "But not everything — "

"Not your chair," Ben adds, appearing to pat the armrest beside him to demonstrate. "Or your sink."

"My chair?" Rey isn't sure what he means.

"— Whatever you're sitting on."

"I'm just —" Rey slumps back into her seat, resettling her hips. "— sitting on my couch. So are you."

"Well, you're sitting on my couch too."

She glares mischievously, feigning a casual air to detract from her churning stomach. Her little revelation only leads to more complications and inconsistencies, deflating her enthusiasm immediately. She wiggles her toes along the cold tile floor to gain her bearings.

"And this is still a coffee table?"

She presses her palms on the ottoman's fabric, shirt scrunching up her back to expose a stripe of skin above the waistband of her shorts. A chill runs through her during the second's delay, goosebumps prickling her calves.

"Yes," he answers.

"Do they… overlap enough?" Another pause. "Maybe?"

"…Maybe." Ben shrugs.

She plucks the bat up and flops against the armrest. "Yeah, I don't know why I'm asking."

Rey observes her hands clutching its length, less intimidating when it teeters in her awkward grip. Certain that Ben is still charting the lines of her scrawny frame, having trouble imagining whatever he sees. Not with so many days feeling adrift lately, beginning to run together until the shock of finding him in the living room.

And she swung at him with the bat. He ducked to avoid it, fled through the front door. And during all that neither of them _really_ knew if —

She points the flared end towards Ben. "I want to see something."

He shifts his weight in his seat, still seems too big for his corner despite having ample space. "See what?"

"Can you…" Rey nudges the bat nearer, halting before its tip grazes Ben's thigh.

His jaw clenches, his prominent nose turned down as he inspects it cautiously. Predictably taps his knee. His evident uncertainty brings a strange relief, knowing that he's equally confused by their situation. Their link. Whatever they should call it. Likely wondering whether touching the object will tear the fabric of the universe.

"…Alright," he says.

Ben resituates himself to face her, reaches for the taper hesitantly. She wiggles to kneel on the cushions, presents the bat with raised eyebrows and excessive ceremony.

"Did you want me to count?" she quips.

Ben chuckles, breaks his gloomy mien with a tiny grin. "Sure," he agrees, hovering his hands above the bat. "Ready?"

Rey blushes again, feels the color staining her cheeks. Flustered by the imagined suggestion in his low voice.

"O- Okay…"

His fingers twitch expectantly. A tension spools tighter in her ribs when he glances at her lips. At her nipples poking through her shirt. When he looks up and their eyes meet. And despite the sense of unknown creeping through her veins, a familiar warmth pools below her stomach to bloom between her hips. Heightens a surreal suspended feeling — like she's in a movie, whispering to the handsome stranger in a secret hideout to unlock the title mystery. Ben nods, reminding her to continue.

"One… two… and —"

He grabs it before Rey finishes.

Nothing happens.

Ben examines its length in his hands, stiffens his grip to verify it's there. Adjusts his hold to smack the end against the heel of his open palm, making a solid

_THWACK_

"— Didn't expect that," he remarks, failing to hide his puzzled expression.

Somehow Rey did. Squirms from the unsettling hollow it prompts nonetheless. "Ran away anyway."

Ben turns the bat over, reads the manufacturer's logo and certification tags. A determination hardens his features, hunting for a solution.

"Instinct," he replies offhandedly. "Good thing, too."

He breaks the moment building between them, leaning away to place the bat back on the ottoman and complete the circle. He freezes, holding on just as Rey did before, staring intently at his own movements.

"Still there," he narrates, "and…"

He jerks his hands away. Pauses another second, knees bumping the furniture as he appraises the results.

"…Gone."

The bat remains visible to Rey, rolls to a stop again. Ben scoots back into the sofa, combing his hair with his fingers as he lets out a lengthy sigh.

"This is really something else," he murmurs, soft enough that she can barely hear. She watches the gentle rise and fall of his broad chest as he breathes. He adds, "Whatever wormhole we've fallen into."

Rey feels too visible still perched on her knees. Her thighs squeeze together unconsciously as she folds her fingers in her lap to keep them busy. Blows away an errant lock of unwashed hair.

"We'll figure it out eventually," she attempts, not expecting Ben to believe her when she doesn't either. "Or it'll stop on its own."

"Guess so."

Rey checks the time on the microwave reflexively. She gasps and leaps to her feet, scrambling into the kitchenette to confirm.

"Shit!"

Ben calls out behind her, "Rey? Are you —"

"Yeah, I —"

Rey spins around, realizes the connection remains open. Even though she darted into this area of the room, and doing that had severed it before.

"I- I gotta get ready for work," she explains, overwhelmed by the thought of a busy closing shift. "We'll… pick this up later."

Rey braces herself leaning against the counter again. She observes Ben on the couch, her nerves cooling with some distance between them despite the lingering intensity of his gaze. He acknowledges her by clearing his throat, wiping down the front of his trousers as he comes to a stand.

"Suppose I should try again?"

He points towards her bedroom. Light catches the silver band of his ring, heightens the lustre of the inlaid jade. No way she would have missed it. The little detail expands rapidly into a larger theory —

"Maybe you should —" Rey lowers her volume, not meaning to shout. "Maybe try taking off the ring."

He frowns. "The ring?"

"For another test," she elaborates. "Indulge me."

He removes it without any protest, stuffs it into his pocket and raises his bare hands to display them plainly.

"Let me know how it goes," Ben says, dropping them to his sides.

"My shift?"

"Your test." He pauses. "And your shift."

_Why would he have been asking about your shift,_ she groans internally, face flushing deeper from her error. She croaks, "I will."

Ben takes a few steps, halting when he's halfway to her bedroom door. He tilts his head, looking at her curiously like he tries to determine if he's dreaming. Rey fidgets with the bottom hem of her shirt.

"See you later then," he tells her.

"Yeah," she answers lamely. "Maybe."

Rey has trouble keeping her balance steady as he leaves, slips out of view into her room. His footsteps dim to eventual silence. The empty apartment is unchanged but _uncanny_ with the bright afternoon sun casting her spartan living space in an almost ethereal glow. She blinks. Wets her lips. And really has no time to dwell at all.

Getting ready for work passes in a blur, in a rushed playacted version of her normal routine. She tunnels her focus, constantly minding the time and scrunching her nose as her shirt chafes the sunburn healing on her shoulders. Her hair is still damp tying it back into three buns, barely dried when she clocks in.

The dining room buzzes with conversation. Patrons are staggered out during the lull before the nighttime crowd and some groups stand by the bar as usual. Time passes quickly and people swarm her station as a band sets up to play. Rey mechanically serves them all drinks, tosses bills into the tipjar, goes at a constant steady pace. The music is too loud to allow for any thoughts besides completing every order, spotting every finger flagging her down, closing every tab correctly. She nearly drops a pitcher of beer when the guitar's feedback rises to a screech.

The night marches on. Kaydel stands on a chair with a cowbell to announce last call with more spring to her step than usual. Cabs come and go. Everyone leaves without incident. Cleaning is relaxing rather than tedious. Rey wipes down the bar, rolls the empty kegs out back, counts the register, helps with the tables — flitting about to distract herself from what she'll need to sort back at the house. She divides tips with her nose down, barely looking up when the band's drummer stops on his way out the door.

"Bar's closed," she barks.

"Rey, right?"

He's taller than her. Stocky. Unremarkable beyond his stubble. No one she recognizes. "Um, did you need something or —"

"Oh, no, sorry," he rushes, sticking out his hand politely. "Saw you at Poe's party the other day. Snap Wexley." He smiles, waiting a couple awkward seconds too long before hiding it away. "Work with Finn at the dock. You're his… sister, sort of, right?"

"Something like that," she answers noncommittally. Not in any mood. Too busy a night and too long a day.

"Great guy," Snap says. About Finn. "Well, nice running into you."

"You too," Rey echoes, even though she doesn't mean it. Just reminds her of how much of a life Finn has built down here. One that goes far beyond her that she can't pretend to know anymore.

She tries to picture explaining what happened earlier. That she made a breakthrough in understanding how some objects appear through the link. Setting aside the bewildering realization that it's continued for a few _days_. Rey waves to her coworkers as they leave. Kaydel shuts off the lights in the back, then the dining room. Sits at one of the high barstools twirling the key on her finger.

"Last call," she greets with a wink. Rey slings her bag over her shoulder with a sheepish grin. Kaydel adds, "You didn't have to stay you know."

"Thought you might want the company," Rey provides. Knows Kaydel wouldn't do the same for her. Really she's just avoiding going home.

"Appreciate it." Kaydel unzips her fanny pack, pulls out her monogrammed flask. "Can you top 'er off, 'tender?"

Rey snickers at her affected tone. "Alright." She snatches it out of her hand, perches on tiptoes to grab a handle from a high shelf. "Vodka?"

"Of course." Kaydel raps her knuckles on the bar, studying Rey's features when she returns her drink. "You okay?"

"Busy night." Rey reaches into her collar to itch her shoulder. "You going anywhere?"

"Nah." Kaydel takes down the pair of buns she wears on top of her head. Shakes out her long blonde hair. "Want to walk down to the beach?"

Sounds… perfect, actually. "Sure."

The stool scrapes the wooden floor as Kaydel climbs off, stowing away her flask and motioning Rey to follow. They turn down the last lights, skitter to exit before the darkness in the quiet bar feels too heavy. Rey walks ahead of Kaydel as she locks the door, not bothering to check for traffic when the road dead-ends here at the beach. Some places are still open up the way, humming with distant music and occasional drunken laughter.

"Wait up —"

Rey pauses, spins to watch Kaydel join her side. Leads her to the stairs winding down over the dunes. The moon hangs high to illuminate the waves cresting on the endless black sea. The sleepy city's lights blur away most of the stars. The steps creak as they descend. A breeze whips Rey's face, prompts a chill down her spine that she pushes away.

"This is the life," Kaydel sighs blissfully when they reach the bottom. Rey turns around to see her stretch her arms and spit out some hair stuck to her lips.

"Yeah," Rey agrees.

Boats bob on the horizon like lanterns. Planes flicker white & red across the clear night sky. The ocean accompanies their footsteps with its peaceful rhythm. Neither of them remove their sneakers, leaving patterned prints behind them in the sand. The beach is nearly empty. An older couple holding hands stroll in the water several yards away. Kaydel takes a swig from her flask and Rey shakes her head when offered a drink. The women weave through a patch of washed-up debris — driftwood, seaweed, and a couple of plastic bags that Rey tries to peel off. Kaydel bumps into an unseen object somewhere ahead.

"Ugh," she groans in disgust, cuing Rey to look up. "D'you know what this is?"

Rey crosses her arms, shivering again. The wind sours with the putrid smell of organic decay. Kaydel grimaces at the ground, pointing to a dull silver mass. A redfish, dead long before it washed up onshore — with its upper half torn like its spine was removed, leaving ribbons of tattered rotting flesh. Rey crouches to examine it more closely, covering her nose & mouth with her hand to mask the scent. Stinks like it's been left out for days even though the beach is cleaned frequently. The face remains intact, one glazed beady eye staring up at them above gaping open lips.

"Redfish," Rey remembers to say aloud.

"Left all the meat," Kaydel comments, standing above Rey and clicking her tongue. "What a waste."

"Yeah," Rey replies mindlessly, her stomach beginning to turn.

Whatever happened to the fish disrupted the usual sequence of decomposition. Patches of festering scales hollow its body with unnatural little holes. The calming ocean tides slide to a higher pitch as Rey struggles to puzzle together what happened, glaring at the carcass's shriveling lips —

They part wider, yawning feebly with a burst of stronger wind…

_…Do you want to join?_

Rey leaps to her feet with an audible gasp, nearly colliding into Kaydel as she staggers back, the tone in her head rising to a shriek. She claps her hands on her ears to drown it out, barely hears Kaydel as she urges,

"Rey? Are you okay? Rey —"

Her chest feels too tight to breathe. "Did you hear that?! Do you hear —"

"Hear what?" Kaydel exclaims.

"I don't —"

Then silence. Rey only hears her shallow breaths. The ebbing tide. Her heart drumming wildly against her ribs. She turns to meet Kaydel's concerned expression as she asks,

"What did you hear?"

"Nothing, I… I don't know." Rey observes the fish, reeling with mortification rather than fear. She bounces on the balls of her feet. "I'm gonna go."

Rey bolts for the stairs, tears stinging her cheeks flushed hot with shame. Waves away Kaydel when she catches up in the parking lot next to the bar, Rey's arms visibly shaking as she opens her car.

"Rey, are you —"

"I'm fine!" she insists, not convincing at all. "Just need to get home, catch up on sleep —"

She slams the door and turns the key. Kaydel knocks on the window until Rey rolls it down,

"Text me when you get back, okay?"

The request is infuriating. Just makes this spiraling humiliation feel even _worse._ "Sure, yeah, see you —"

Rey spots Kaydel in the rearview mirror as she peels out of the parking lot, takes one of the side-streets to avoid the main drag of town. Drives home in a haze of overwhelming thoughts, barely recalling how she made it there when she arrives. She leaves her coupe parked crooked in its port under the house's stilts, flees up the stairs to her unit — unable to identify why she's so _scared_.

Rey kicks off her shoes in the living room. Leaves off all the lights. Discards her work uniform in the closet, all its fabric feeling too scratchy on her skin. Her phone pings in her bag. Rey answers Kaydel's text with a thumbs up emoji and picks up the stupid fucking coin that's on the floor again. She turns off her alarm and collapses onto her mattress, retreats beneath the covers with her face pressed against the bed.

This is too much of a reaction. She's overblowing it. Whatever she heard wasn't enough to justify making such a scene. Over a _dead fish_. Kaydel probably thinks she's crazy. Rey feels like she is too, her pulse finally steady again. No work the next couple days, maybe she should call out sick afterwards if nothing changes. Her limbs are exhausted, her body heavy, and somehow she's able to squeeze her eyelids shut —

— and her mind blanks completely. All her tension and dread seeps out from her veins. She lies on her back in a vast black emptiness whose end she cannot see. Becomes aware of her hands as she itches her torso, bare between the bands of her bra & panties and stippled by goosebumps all down her flesh. Slithers her fingers lower to chase a warmth stirring between her legs, sensing an awareness of being beneath another's gaze.

Her thighs fall open as it beats stronger. As she squints to discern a shape fading into focus, shaded darker than her surroundings and approaching on what appears to be hands & knees. Cool whisps graze her calves, pet the soft skin bordering her thin strip of underwear, stiffen to form thick digits that pull aside the fabric to tap along her clit.

_Please,_ she whimpers heatedly.

No one answers but something hears her, rubbing circles over her nub until her feet fidget and legs shake. Drags its knuckles down her slit to wilt her open, reforms to a point curling inside to ease its entry. She bites her lip, rolling with its motions as it fills her at an excruciatingly slow pace. Her hips rock faster, the darkness swells & pumps harder. She whines as it crowds another finger into her cunt and she ruts against it shamelessly.

Rey tries to suppress her moans, tells herself she should feel guilty for liking what she feels, for opening her body to someone literally unseen. And though she knows she's only dreaming, for these minutes finally nothing matters beyond her and fulfilling her desires in this strange floating in-between…

_Don't be scared,_ Rey hears and she nods obediently. _Come real good and loud for me —_

She throws her head back and cries out,

_I'm so fucking close —_

before her voice goes silent, eclipsed by the sound of steady ocean waves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you [SaveTheSpaceWhales](https://archiveofourown.org/users/awishman) and [weddersins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weddersins) for beta reading and being so lovely 💕
> 
> Thank you for reading and excited for what comes next 💌 Link to my [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/theselittlefics) xoxo


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and for your feedback. Having a lot of fun writing this and pleased you've been enjoying so far 😊 These next few chapters start the slide into Act II... Here goes 🙈

Ben's fingers smell again the next morning. No mistaking what it is, even if it makes as little sense now as it did two days before. Frustrating that he can't recall this dream, but has no problem remembering every detail of seeing a barely-formed lighthouse on a distant shore. The scent lingers after he washes his hands a couple times, holds them close to his nose as he eats a bowl of cereal in the kitchen's seating nook.

Rey isn't there. A part of him hoped she would be, standing at the counter and stirring coffee with a spoon. He imagines her legs tensing as she tiptoes to reach something high he cannot see, raising the bottom edge of her simple cotton shorts. A regret stings his ribs and he wipes his hand on his thigh. She's too young, sharp, and stunning to be interested beyond surface curiosity. No matter what Ben thinks he saw in her flushed cheeks and wandering gaze, he knows she'd never lay her tight little body beneath his large awkward frame.

_She's looking for a solution,_ he reminds himself, sipping the sugared milk from the brim of his bowl (like he did as a boy with his mother sitting in the other chair). Rey wants to sever their connection. Understandably. The lack of control and knowledge makes their situation… distressing, in a tiny quiet way that nudges him from being deluded by this temporarily-fulfilled fantasy of not being trapped here alone. They don't know what's happening, what else it could impact — or why both of them picking fights at a boring party became such a life-altering event.

But only changed for the time being, if she could help it. Ben isn't sure why he externalizes the intention, pretty sure any normal person would want this to stop too. The loss of privacy and certainty _should_ be enough to spur his resolve but…

…he finds himself more enchanted than frightened by their circumstances instead. Maybe this is it. The final hurdle before losing his mind.

No point in being so fatalistic. For now she still seems to be _real_ and all this _really_ happening. He needs to be useful, come up with a test or theory or at least some information. She noticed the ring. Asked if there was a story. A natural place for Ben to start and one with an obvious way to go but —

Must be enough out there to piece it together without calling his uncle. Seeing him at the funeral after more than a decade was enough to tide Ben over for a lifetime. All of it was too much. Hearing Luke yakking with impressionable country club townsfolk at garage sales. Taking calls from his _students_ about moon phases, crystals, and which ice creamery they should try when they visit him in Vermont. Always keeping his distance from Ben, never once smacking his back or pretending his visit was anything more than initial movements of his dead sister's money and nicest belongings.

After so many refusals to make amends, Luke knows not to bother anymore. Ben's mother accepted his kindly old man hippie schtick as realized growth. Always willing to bet on forgiveness when it came to those she loved. Even on Ben, no matter how consistently he declined her calls.

_Doesn't matter now._

The bowl goes in the sink. Ben stares at all the kitchen's unchanged things. That last phone number his mother wrote down still on the notepad by the answering machine. Almost a year waiting to be thrown away. His phone pings on the counter. Another ad he swipes off.

The room stays quiet. Ben decides moving to the couch is a more likely way to activate the link. He lies on his back, conscious of the fact that he could have done this ages ago. But a lifetime of ignorance already gave the matter little urgency…

…and it's hard to feel any determination now either. Searching his grandfather's name locates the same yearbook photo and marriage certificate he found in high school. Every website prompts him for an email. Nothing in the news or even in passing besides his mother's obituary. Ben shifts to the symbol on the medallion, frustrated by his inability to articulate himself being so _limiting_. "A plus sign with arrows" brings up message boards. "Crossed arrows" finds quivers, tattoos, and clothing stores. It's not an Iron Cross, the arrows are too thin. And "jade arrows" takes him to crafts and antiques. Every description leads to just internet clutter and targeted junk. After barely an hour, Ben sets the phone screen-down on his chest.

He sniffs his fingers, snatches them away before dwelling too long. Hates that he can't entirely trust himself not to be fooled by wishful thinking. And these past few days have made him question his rationality even more. Seeing a woman in this old empty house, smelling one on his hand, not even sure what time he fell asleep. Aware that he's web searching to have something to share the next time he sees her, more than any personal interest in what he long ago dismissed as Forever Unknown. 

The sun is bright through the blinds. He sits up awkwardly with a grunt to pull the cord and bathe the den in light. The stark change in his surroundings works to scatter his disorganized thoughts. To ease that persistent trepidation that tempers his sentimental daydreams.

He should do something smart, like go to the library. And place a higher priority on discovering the source of this _supernatural_ activity. (That's what it is, isn't it? Ben can't rationalize it as anything else.) Rather than brood over his accidental companion that didn't ask to get burned by his ring.

He goes upstairs to put it on and change his clothes, slides the medallion in the pocket of his dark jeans. The unsold art deco clock on the landing says it's almost noon. That unease returns as Ben descends, thinning the air and drying his throat. He coughs, grabs a plain zip-up hoodie hanging on the railing. Returns to the kitchen to take a soda from the fridge. He detects a thin musty scent when the door swings open, cracks the can to take a sip —

Flat again. Ben swallows hard, not expecting the syrupy texture. He sets the can down on the counter, uncaps the milk to sip directly from the quart —

Ben gags, runs to spit it out in the sink. Sour and gritty, with tiny rotten chunks left in the basin. His eyes water from the foul taste, much more intense when gulped down so unexpectedly.

He _just_ had a bowl of cereal with milk. Ate his breakfast sniffing his fingers like a fucking creep but couldn't have possibly missed _this_. Ben shoves open the fridge, strong enough for the hinges to bounce to a halt. He reads the expiration date, good for another few days. The rest of the liquid is rancid too. Ben leaves it upside-down to drain, suspiciously eyes the rest of his food. The carrots are slimy. The last can of soda is flat and joins the milk in the sink. The mustard had gone bad long before today. He unseals a single serving yogurt and grimaces seeing a blue ring of mold beneath. He tosses it all, glares at the garbage bag swinging in his hand when he walks it to the bin outside.

Ben is almost certain he bought most of it yesterday. Checks the floor of the Benz for the receipt, finds a tube of hand sanitizer instead. The chemical scent flushes out the spoiled food, slightly dizzying when giving too much thought to everything all at once. He lies on the bed after checking the den & his room, observes the ceiling warily like it might cave in next.

Ben has no hard evidence to support his memory. The consideration gives him pause. One thing to forget or misplace details and lose track of days. But to hallucinate an entire drive and trip to the store…

Either the food is going crazy or he is, and Ben knows the latter is the more likely possibility. He places the medallion back in its box, stomps into the hallway, nearly trips skipping the last stair on his way down. He kicks the coffee table askew in the den, scattering the stack of letters to the floor. Finds a pad of sticky notes beneath them and kneels to find a working pen. Three blanks in a row, hurls the fourth at the empty wall where he saw Rey yesterday. The fifth finally works (he couldn't have possibly used this many, but who knows):

**STORE**

He writes over the word several times to correct his wobbly lines, hands shaking with frustration. Below it he does the same with the date. Marches into the kitchen to post it to the fridge.

Ben storms out of the house, slamming the door behind him. He paces the driveway a couple times before getting in the car, sits in the driver's seat with the engine running trying to regain his bearings. Considers going to box in the shed instead but somehow feels too _seen_ in his confusion, despite being alone. The volume is low on the radio, heavily staticed from the closely-grown trees blocking the signal.

He wonders if his grandfather ever felt this too, a similar static unthreading his veins. Flying around the house looking for missing time & things. Determining whether he or his surroundings are changing as those around him questioned his sanity. _Those around him,_ Ben repeats, meeting his scowl in the rearview mirror.

He exhales through his nose. If it happens again he'll order delivery to have another way to confirm the date. He nods to himself. Puts the car in reverse, backs out of the driveway and only goes up one exit instead of two to a grocery store.

✖❌✖❌

Rey remembers her dream.

Not all of it, but enough to understand why she woke up feeling so… indecent. She closes her eyes to enhance the brief memory, unsure if she imagines or recalls a familiar deep voice guiding her towards release.

_Come real good and loud for me —_

She lies on her side with her cheek pressed to the mattress, staring at the white walls washed out by the late morning sun. The air conditioning dries the sweat on her face, crisps the hairs sticking to her neck. The words match Ben's intense gaze as she replays them several times over.

As she pictures him saying them.

She throws off the blanket to banish the thought. Sits up in her bed and listens to the heavy silence in her room, waiting for it to break. Someone starts their car in the ports beneath the stilted house, humming under the floorboards and prompting Rey to start her day.

…Not that she has one really planned, no work and no hours at the aquarium until tomorrow. She steps into the shower to cool off, still edged & unsettled from her dream. She shivers and scrubs her face, coasts her palms down her body to confirm it's there. Her own touch feels external and peculiar, even when she warms the water and scrubs with her flowery soap. Insists that she's shaving her legs earlier than usual for swimming. That she declines touching herself due to her upstanding modesty, rather than avoiding her temptation to be found. By Ben. Maybe slowly approaching the foggy shower stall, stopping before he opens it to hear her sigh his name.

She closes the water, watches the droplets maze from her hair to catch on her nipples and disappear into the cleavage she creates by crossing her arms tightly. She rubs her shoulders for friction, tuning her ears to the drain and the stillness of her empty apartment. Internally narrating her own reaction to forcibly label it as relief.

(Not dismay. He's a total stranger after all.)

Rey wrings her hair and barely dries herself, heads to the living room with the towel wrapped at her chest. Wet footprints track her path over the tiles, mark her strides around the kitchenette as she makes coffee. She peeks behind her shoulder listening to the tiny drips, anticipating being observed only to find nobody there. Blushes when she realizes she's _waiting_ and darts into her bedroom to shut the door.

When is the last time she felt this restless from mere fantasy? From a stupid sexy dream, likely resulting from the internalized stress of facing & exploring paranormal activity. She frowns at her sparse closet, shoves aside hangers of worn tunics, fraying wraps, high-school-era peasant tops, and faded button-downs. Plucks down a simple tan cotton sundress with blue stylized starfish printed on the sheer fabric. With thumb-width straps and a low scooped neck, ending a couple inches above her knees. An overeager purchase at a crafts fair shortly after she arrived, still charmed by beachside living. She puts on a bra just a shade too dark, even though her lighter one is clean. Ties her hair half-up to let it frame her cheeks instead of pulling it into buns. She smooths down the front of her dress in the mirror, scratches a patch of shaving bumps inside her calf. Hears the coffeemaker complete its cycle. Rey grabs her cell from the nightstand, cradles it awkwardly in one hand and returns to the living room.

The whole apartment smells of fresh brew. She tosses her phone on the couch to make a cup, slips through one of the puddles left by her dripping hair. Rey gasps and catches herself on the counter, barely avoiding knocking her head against its edge.

"Shit…"

Just barely. She staggers upright, rests her palm on her sternum. Her heart races, she exhales slowly, drops a dishrag on the floor to wipe it with her foot —

The tiles are bone dry. She kicks the cloth aside, balances to check for condensation on her soles. Wiggles her wet and stubbed toes. Stares at the already-cleaned floor for several moments, preparing for whatever's next. The air conditioning whirrs to a lower frequency. The ceiling fan creaks above the TV.

Nothing happens. She dismisses it as clumsiness and forgetfulness instead of dwelling for too long.

Rey fills the same oversized mug she used yesterday, the one she painted at a pottery studio with Rose. Taps her fingers on the counter as she stirs in the sugar, checking over her shoulder again. She hasn't worn this dress in awhile, a little too nice for most outings and too short for upscale settings. It rolls up her thighs when she lies on the couch and sets her coffee on the ottoman with a grunt. Bares most of her limbs as she wiggles to find her phone.

Rey corrects her posture and attempts to present an appearance of casual repose, aware of the unconvincing staging. Tells herself being prepared for unannounced visitors will make the day easier. That she dresses up simply for _expecting company_ and nothing more. She scratches her arm and crosses her legs at her ankles with an air of finality.

No notifications on her phone. She keys in random search terms without scrolling past the first results: apparitions, teleportation, wormholes, astral projection, psychic connections, cursed artifacts, redfish decomposition, fever dreams —

Definitions. Encyclopedia entries. And none of them quite fit her situation particularly. Rey sips her coffee and lets the screen idle asleep, finding nothing that narrows her focus or finetunes the current strategy. She'll just have to… keep working backwards until a solution comes together naturally. Set tests. Find the patterns. Tackle this like a broken machine and puzzle out a fix. No matter how helpless and ignorant she feels until getting there. That's how she navigated her youth. Finished high school. Kept her cars going. Scraped together cash to move to the beach with Finn — 

The sky is a crisp blue outside her window. She lives in a tropical paradise and it's a beautiful cloudless day. Has a cute outfit on, nothing to do until tomorrow afternoon, and sits around alone in her apartment instead of taking advantage. Rey pulls up her last text to Kaydel, stomach turning with last night's memory. The fish was probably a one-time episode, borne of strain and ringing ears from the band.

No more than that. She doesn't even want to briefly entertain the notion of any more irregularities outside the living room.

Rey unlocks her phone, opens an emailed flyer for a food truck festival & classic car show in the older downtown across the Intracoastal. Forwarded to her by Finn a week ago with three words:

_want to go?_

Followed by her standard reply:

_yea, text me_

She rereads the date and time. Checks her messages. Reopens the last one from Finn. Scrolls up to confirm nothing new. The festival is today, started already and continuing into the evening.

This should be simple. Type some letters in and ask if he still wants to go. Her thumbs hover over the electronic keyboard as she delays longer and longer, her chest tightening with indecision even this many days later. One of her dusty social media apps blips up a banner to check out recent updates.

"Sure, whatever," Rey replies aloud, taking up the suggestion. The landing page opens with an overly enthusiastic greeting, complete with an emoji and exclamation point,

**Welcome back, Rey!** 🎉

Promoted posts and heavily-liked updates from friends of friends mostly. Engagement photos. Vacations. Announcements. Grainy concert footage. She toggles over to chronological order and nearly drops her phone seeing the page.

A new post from Rose, thirty minutes ago. Smiling into the camera, angled above her and Finn and a huge helping of baked mac & cheese on a plastic picnic table between them. Two forks stick out like little antennas, complementing their buggy sunglasses and sweat-shined cheeks. A line of food trucks are visible at the top edges of the frame.

The screen wobbles as Rey's hand starts to shake. Her vision blurs reading the caption underneath.

_2nd or 3rd lunch today?_ 🤪

She grinds her jaw, eyes stinging to hold back her tears. She expands Rose's profile and sees a panorama of dessert carts. A neatly-presented row of flautas. A pristine '67 Mustang. A morning stroll on the riverwalk and a close-up of a bumblebee.

Rey wipes her nose on her forearm. Her cheeks feel hot, her dress too close, her limbs wound by a creeping realization that —

They went without her. Simple as that.

She isn't even surprised. But her hands won't stop trembling, her device slides into the cushions as she loses her grip. Her heart pounds against her ribs, shapes to expand the hollow cavity of loss twisting like a knife in her chest. Natural progression, she reminds herself. Friendships drift and fade. Familiar faces in photos grow older as months without speaking become years. People find partners and communities and build little lives of their own.

Of course Finn would do the same.

Somehow she let her guard down, folded too much of her identity into their quest to escape Iowa and conquer the world. Tethered herself to their friendship, to their _found family._ Tricked herself into believing that she had enough of a fulfilling grounding to set out on her own. They grew up and outgrew her and she feels like a kid watching them walk away. She barely knows anyone besides Finn and Rose, even after a couple years. Nothing to return to in the Midwest besides shitty memories of group homes and being teased for her tattered shoes —

And Ben… how could she possibly try to explain without sounding crazy?

If she texted Finn he'd probably apologize for forgetting and invite her to join. But that's hardly the point. If he really wanted her there, he would have asked. It was his idea after all.

Rey tells herself she's being irrational, but it doesn't make it hurt any less. She chokes on her sobs and hugs her legs close, resting her forehead on her knees. Listens to the silence that always keeps her company. She made it here like she always wanted. Has four walls of her own. A short walk to the beach. An open path of endless potential and vast possibility.

All for her to navigate completely and utterly alone.

✖❌✖❌

Ben labels all the food with a black sharpie as he puts it away in the fridge. An x to mark each new item and match it with today's date. He grinds his teeth, knows what it would look like to an outside observer to see him meticulously tracking his groceries like he stashes them from thieves. He leaves his phone and thoughts behind in the kitchen when he goes out to the shed. Sets the ring down on the workbench and pulls on his boxing gloves with the intention of exerting away all this lingering concern. His footwork is all off. His swings hit the bag unevenly. Ben sighs and steps away in defeat.

He spins to check the open entry when a breeze rustles the newly-blooming leaves. Senses his anger spiking to boil over seeing absolutely fucking nothing again. He pivots to land a punch at full force that twirls the bag on its chain with a high-pitched creak.

The recoil is less satisfying to watch than usual. He throws off the gloves to the floor, grabs the ring from the bench. Forces it onto a shaky finger as he marches back to the house, frustrated that he can't connect to this one last refuge from his disorganized thoughts. Ben circles back to the kitchen, sticks his head in the freezer to cool off a few seconds even though he didn't break a sweat. Relieved to unseal & sip from a new carton of lemonade and find that it's perfectly normal. Even a bit too sweet for his taste.

Ben checks his phone, nearly gags on his last swallow spotting the time.

An hour passed since he went out to the shed. Despite just waltzing in and out without accomplishing much of anything. Ben blinks. Confirms the date he wrote on the note earlier. Rests his elbows on the counter and listens to birds chirping near the patio. A clang of an appliance turning over. His tapping foot. His slow exhale.

A distant cough.

Ben stands straight. Branches crack with a flurry of wings and the birds fly away. The house is still like it's holding a breath. A tiny sniff breaks the silence, muffled in another room. He waits. Hears the noise again.

He nods to retune his focus as he plots his quiet steps through the foyer. He stops before the den comes into view, hearing a stifled garbled sound. Then a rustle of fabric. He leans on the wall, heart leaping to his throat with recognition.

Crying.

Someone trying to smother tears.

_Rey._ It has to be.

Ben hears her sniff again. Maybe he shouldn't be here, listening to her private moment when she assumes she's alone. But he wants to run in and hold her face to make sure she's real — to tell her she'll be okay —

"Rey?"

The syllable drops like a stone as he enters the den. She sits with her feet on the sofa, clasping her knees to her chest. Her eyes look glassy, her forehead dusted red from having it pressed to her bent legs. She wears her hair mostly down, half-tied to frame her neck. Her patterned dress scrunches at her hips from the position, exposing her suntanned thighs.

Rey gasps, "Sorry, I —"

She jumps up to flatten her clothes with trembling hands. Wipes her face with the back of her bared arm and an uncomfortable frown.

"— Don't be," Ben blurts out without thinking. "Are you…"

She tucks her hair behind her ear, sits back down on the sofa. Next to the armrest, at the edge of the cushion, squirming as she straightens the bottom of her dress.

"…Are you alright?"

"Not really," she mutters, lacing her fingers in her lap. Her toes wiggle a few inches from one of the letters on the floor. "I'll be okay."

Rey says it with more resignation than certainty. Ben draws closer, hesitates by the crooked coffee table. The afternoon sun through the den's window casts her in an almost ethereal light. This strange gift left to view & admire as his alone.

"Do you want me to —"

She picks her head up. "No —"

There's a beat before she continues in a more even tone. "No, you don't… have to. Go. If you don't —"

Ben takes a seat, consciously leaving several inches of space between his thigh and her hips. Drapes one arm on the back of the sofa, turns to watch her in profile as she wets her lips.

Rey whispers another apology. "Sorry…"

"It's okay." He'll repeat it until she believes him. "Don't be sorry. Is there anything I can —"

"No," Rey interrupts. "Not — not really, it's fine. I'll be fine."

He wishes she would look at him. "If you need someone to…"

Ben trails off when she stirs to wring her hands before resting them on her lap again. Resettles to close her thighs tighter. Her eyelashes flutter down as she determines her response.

"You're stuck with me either way," he quips, trying to keep the conversation going. "We haven't figured out exactly how to make me leave."

Rey smirks. "It's… silly."

"It's not."

She shakes her head. "You don't even know what it is."

"It's not," he responds. "But you can try to convince me."

She forces her little grin wider but it quickly drops again. "I guess."

Her hesitation is obvious in her posture, in how she broaches the subject only to discredit it immediately. Reluctant to share this vulnerability with him.

"Know you didn't ask for my company," Ben offers, "but I'm here. In the other sense."

"…Thanks."

Rey sighs, scratches the nape of her neck. Lets another moment's silence grow between them, making her presence more surreal.

"I just…" She glances over at his knees, belying one last consideration. "I moved here a few years ago. From Iowa, with my friend."

She searches for her next words. Ben tries to help her along. "Okay."

"He's like the closest thing I have to a… a family." She picks at one of her stubby nails. "You don't want to hear my life story —"

"I have time."

Another tiny grin. "Yeah, well…"

Rey shifts her body to face his, tugs her dress down her thighs so he can't see up her skirt. Her gaze appears to wander towards the window above the sofa, overlooking the yard. As if they observe the same scene, sitting beside one another instead of a thousand miles away. Ben wonders if she has a window there too, spots palm trees along straight neatly-paved roads. She remains turned away when she speaks,

"He's literally the closest thing I have to a family. Six years through two group homes. Stuck together after turning eighteen. Eventually came down here." Rey pauses, closes her eyes briefly, avoiding his reaction. "Yeah. Guess I just thought things would be different than they turned out. Dumb kid shit."

Ben isn't sure if she wants to elaborate. "Did something… happen?"

He assumes they had a fight, but Rey shakes her head again. "No, a- a miscommunication. Not a big deal." Grits her teeth like she doesn't entirely believe it. "Forgot he invited me somewhere. Nothing actually… happened."

Her reticence is tricky to decipher. Ben comments vaguely, "It upset you. That happened."

"Shouldn't be a big deal," Rey groans. She glares at the lowering afternoon sun. "A mistake. It just reminded me how — how I really am on my own. Like I always have been and —"

She bites her cheek, watches Ben's fingers tap the back of the sofa below the windowsill.

"…I shouldn't be telling you this," she murmurs.

"It's okay."

Finally she turns, her stare sharp beneath its forlorn haze. Skeptical despite her timid gentle tone,

"I don't even know you."

"You will eventually," Ben replies. "If we keep meeting this way."

The corners of her lips turn up. A feebly attempted smile instead of hiding her sundress beneath a blanket and cringing away. Almost like she doesn't mind the idea entirely, but Ben reasons that's probably wishful thinking.

"I have no idea what I want to do," she says. "Or what I'm doing. I'm just… here."

_Just here._ That part Ben thinks he can understand. He attempts, "Waiting for what's next?"

"Yeah. Sort of." She resettles her hips as she adds, "Figuring it out as I go along. The usual."

Ben reads a familiar sadness in her description despite the differences in context — an aimless sense of being adrift. Briefly pictures her floating on her back watching clouds in her pink swimsuit, body rolling with the rhythm of a wave. Eyes closed with an endless sea to the horizon on all sides. Putting her into a recurring dream of his that used to come when he was —

"…Feeling alone," Ben finishes aloud.

"Yeah." She looks down at her lap. "Exactly."

Another tear streaks her cheek. Rey wipes it away before letting it fall, apologizing for nothing,

"Sorry —"

"Don't be."

She dries the back of her hand on a cushion as she mutters, "Probably sounds dumb."

"It doesn't," he answers truthfully. He fumbles for something to say when she watches him again, adding lamely, "It doesn't sound dumb."

Rey plants her feet back on the floor, moves to stand,

"Y- You probably have somewhere to be —"

She crosses her arms, starts shuffling to leave.

"I don't," Ben answers, trying not to sound desperate. Every time she goes could be the last and he'd never stop replaying these minutes if their connection ended with her crying and fleeing the den.

She doesn't seem to hear him. "And I'm just putting this on you and —"

"Rey."

Her name comes out abruptly, with an edge like a command. She halts mid-step, observing him with a hardened suspicion he hasn't seen from her before. Wary to risk any trust at all.

"It's okay. I promise," Ben says, lowering his voice. "I understand how overwhelming it can be. Feeling alone."

Her nose crinkles when she glares, when her brows lower to narrow her eyes. Like his expression betrayed something he didn't intend —

"I'm not looking for _pity_," she sputters. "I don't need — that _look_ about my n- not having a family, I've seen it enough times to —"

She rushes to string her words together as she flinches further away. Ben leaps to his feet as regret twists his chest.

He hurries to explain, "It's not pity —"

Rey angles around the still-crooked coffee table, phasing through most of the corners instead of bruising her knees.

"Telling me it's okay to be _overwhelmed,_ to cry about being alone like a little kid —"

The conversation spirals away from Ben already, fucking up another thing in such a short time. His pulse throbs in his ears as she marches towards the foyer, as he calls out to her back,

"Rey, you're —"

She freezes. He knows she heard. His mouth goes dry and Ben forces himself to say the rest,

"You're not alone." There's a beat. "Feeling that way. Overwhelmed."

The pause feels much longer than it is. Rey tips up on her toes and down again. Relaxes her shoulders. Breathes out very slowly, biting her lip as she turns back with a remorseful frown. Her eyes flit to the floor, trail up his limbs, and widen meeting his once more.

"It's… it's not pity," Ben insists, moving his jaw like there are marbles in his mouth. "Or —"

Rey blinks. "I know, I…"

She returns to the sofa with clipped steps, seats herself against the same armrest with deeply flushed cheeks. Her whisper is barely audible,

"…Thank you."

She tilts her chin up at him with a lopsided smile, small and curled up in her perch. Her legs look smooth, he spots a red nick a few inches above one ankle, like she freshly shaved just before seeing him. Ben swallows hard, sits back down without breaking his stare,

"Sure," he replies.

"— F- For listening," she adds hastily.

"Sure."

He glances at the cut again, tries not to dwell on that part of himself that suggests _maybe she dressed up for him._ Probably did for her friend, the one who upset her and left her here. She clears her throat,

"Do you… have a story?"

Ben knew she would ask eventually, reviewing the variations he's rehearsed. Even if it never occurred to him to actually use them.

"Everyone does," he says.

"Well." She follows his hand as he places it on the back of the couch again. "I have time too."

She really is beautiful. Naturally, effortlessly, captivating him in his empty childhood home with no makeup or shoes and her eyelashes matted with tears. Lying to her is impossible. He already pictures her curious expression paling with disappointment. When she finds out how _boring_ and _stuck_ he really is. Decides to keep it simple,

"Came back to my childhood home last year, after a decade away." A brief pause. "To settle my parents' estate. Been here on my own waiting for what's next ever since."

"How's it been?" she asks. Not appalled or concerned, simply wanting to know more. "Going back after that long?"

"More complicated than expected." Ben resists picking up the letters from the floor, reminds himself she can't see them. "Figuring it out as I go along. Like this wormhole we've fallen into."

She hasn't moved to leave again. Still sits facing him with a nervous grin that he attempts to match with one of his own, unsure if they've recovered from what transpired before,

"Rey, you're —"

She watches him intently. He keeps going, probably about to ruin it all again,

"You're not alone."

A glimmer of recognition softens her features. Her fingers stir by her thighs as she says,

"Neither are you."

His heart skips a beat, stunned by her response. Maybe she's just being polite or articulating sympathy, but it _feels_ like more — winding a tension in his chest that seems to build between them — 

"Thanks," he croaks.

"Yeah." Her smile brightens. "Haven't figured out how to get rid of me either way."

"— I wouldn't want to."

He winces internally for his impulsive reply, too swept by whatever's happening to think before he speaks. Her limbs are nearer than he remembers and the walls are more cramped. She changes how she sits once more, flipping her hair behind her shoulders,

"So you —"

Rey drops her hand on top of the couch as Ben flinches his away, timed off just too late.

Their fingertips brush.

The brief contact flares with a swell of energy.

"I —"

Rey startles to kneel on the cushions, lips parted mid-word as gapes back at Ben. No question she felt it too, a mild static coursing through their touch. Her tits rise with her deep inhale, obviously working to compose herself,

"Y- You too?"

"Yes."

Her eyes narrow with determination, forcing a stoic demeanor as she pieces together another experiment. Probably. She seems much more level-headed than him, inching closer and peeking at his mouth,

"Was it a fluke? Or —"

"I don't know," Ben says.

"Maybe we should…"

Rey trails off, examining Ben's hand as he rests it on the cushion between them. Sliding hers towards it with a nod, confirming the unspoken test. Her fingers flitter with anticipation.

She grazes his knuckles.

Her breath hitches. His stomach drops. The places where they touch thread with a strange sensitivity. She draws a line to his wrist. He taps the cushion from the recoil.

The sensation is dimmed, pleasantly blurred and ill-defined. He clenches his jaw observing her delicate motions over his skin, as she places her second hand down in his periphery. He covers it beneath his, coasting lightly to incite the nerves along his palm. She strokes his other wrist, the reaction following the path she draws up his forearm.

"…Not a fluke," he manages.

She feathers his elbow with her thumb. "Y- Yeah…"

He tightens his grip around the hand he holds, notices how little it is under his. She curls her fingers over his bicep, then the edge of his t-shirt's sleeve. Ben peers down to see she's crawled even nearer and wonders whether she's doing it unconsciously — 

Or is carried by the same instinct for exploration as he, wanting to feel it more and spread all over. Rey lets him clasp her wrist, clutches his arm when she wedges against his thigh. Both of them move towards one another and Ben can't tell who presses where first — 

He tugs lightly and she falls onto his chest, pushing her tits against him with her breath heating the slope of his neck. His muscles tense, her pulse races under his thumb just like his. She hovers over his jawline, against the corner of his mouth. And for one horrible second he considers that maybe this is just a vivid fantasy…

"Rey —"

She silences him with her lips.

His mind blanks.

Her kiss is intoxicating, stung with a gentle electricity he's never felt before. She deepens their embrace, tastes him with her tongue as she digs her nails in. All his nerves surface to attention, to assure him she's real and really here — igniting a drive that warms his skin and heightens every touch with an urgency that's too present to be a dream —

She pulls away. "Do you…"

"Don't be afraid." He tangles his fingers through her hair, cups the back of her head. "I feel it too."

She nods. Kneads her torso against his and groans into his mouth. Lifts to guide her hips higher as he skims up her dress, memorizing the smooth planes of her thighs with his roving hand. He scratches her scalp when she bites his lip. Grabs her perfect little ass hard enough to make her squirm.

"Fuck," he gasps when she disconnects again, too scattered to speak. He focuses on her clothes hitching up as she straddles his lap. "Look at you —"

He still can't believe it, not even when she keeps rubbing and kissing him eagerly. She lowers to sit across his wide thigh, her entrance heated enough to sense it through his trousers.

She creaks, "I- I'm —"

She rocks gently, whimpering with a note of apology. He slumps into the couch, dumbfounded by the flawless image of her pinching her features and grinding his leg. He hikes her dress up to her waist, revealing her blue underwear. Skimpy and thinly-cut, darkened by a damp spot at the bottom that winks with every roll of her hips.

Her pace increases as he watches, goaded by the mere presence of his gaze.

"Keep going," he shudders.

Rey holds his shoulders, gaining friction against the fabric of his pants with a low moan. Ben's hands span over her middle. A warmth pools below her cunt to seep into his thigh. She shoves her knee against his pelvis, applying pressure to trace the outline of his cock —

He yanks her hair, grinning as she collapses onto his lips with a squeak. Bunches more in his fist as she wriggles to nip his earlobe with her teeth.

"Ben…"

Hearing her sigh his name is bewildering. Sweetened with a heavier knowing than he imagined, almost too good to be true. He puppets her head to bite the dip to her shoulders. She shivers and whines and the room starts to spin —

_Fuck_ he never thought she'd be so pliant to his suggestion, so excited for his touch. Using him to find some comfort through release. She makes him feel huge and imposing, wilting helplessly under his command. Everything's happening too fast. The surge of excitement is too overwhelming. And Ben lets the fear spill over to speech,

"Show me you're really here…"

Even though he has no idea how she could. She licks the shell of his ear and murmurs,

"It's really me."

And it strikes him that maybe even if they can keep going, that doesn't mean they should — 

"Stop."

Rey halts. Blushes looking down at him circling her waist to still her movements. Her expression drains with obvious shame,

"I- I'm really here —"

"Yes," he rushes. "But we don't know what this is, what all this is."

"Yeah, so, we'll figure it out — we'll keep working backwards until —"

"Rey." He waits a beat. "Stop."

Her dress drapes to cover her body as she flinches away, eyes glassy again. "I'm sorry, I —"

"Fuck, don't be sorry," he spits, regretting his decision already. "Please don't be fucking sorry."

"I just —"

"What if we're destroying a parallel dimension somewhere or —"

"T- That's your —"

Excuse. Ben can hear the first bit decay to silence on her tongue. She climbs off his lap, shrinks against the opposite armrest with her legs clapped tightly closed. Reconsiders his words with a feeble nod.

"Okay." She gulps. "Yeah. We… don't know what it is."

She rises to her feet, smooths the front of her dress and straightens the straps. Strands of hair stick to the pink patches blooming on her collarbone.

"I meant what I said," he reiterates. Not wanting her to leave with the wrong idea. "That I'm here. That you're… not alone."

"Sure." She presses her lips to a line. "So did I."

Ben shifts his jaw.

She points to indicate his ring. "Can you…"

"Oh — Okay," Ben fumbles as he struggles to twist it off. "For your —"

"Theory, yeah." She crosses her arms. "Indulge me."

The band drops on the coffee table with a clunk that echoes in the den. Rey hesitates. Offers one last curt nod towards the foyer.

"See you later, maybe," she mumbles.

And she exits that way. Ben hunches forward to watch her back as she goes. Her silhouette dims to a shadow, disappears before reaching the front door. The silence left in her wake is weighed with an energy that Ben can't identify. His breaths are short. He unzips his trousers, adjusts his cock, spots his dark blurred reflection on the dormant TV screen. 

_Fucking idiot._ Had her right there, riding his body and completely opened to his whims. Assuming it wasn't a pathetic vision or —

Ben sniffs her side of the couch again, her soap & scent filling his nose and ceasing all his misgivings. An animal skitters and calls outside. He snakes his hand down his pants, presses his forehead to the cushion, and resists the urge to kick the table and scream.

✖❌✖❌

Rey locks her bedroom door, too mortified to replay what happened. Too turned on to heed the thorn of guilt in her chest. She crawls onto the mattress, rolls onto her back and watches the ceiling spin. Her clothes are too tight. The dress peels off easily, pools beside the coin that's back on the floor.

All her nerves are still surfaced and raw, her cunt still slick and heavy. She itches her sternum beneath her bra, drifts down to her underwear to gently circle her clit. Her eyelids squeeze closed as she dips inside herself to wet her fingers. She smears it over her swollen nub, inhaling sharply with the changed sensation. Builds faster and harder as she imagines the door creaking open to footsteps trudging across the floor. Trailing to stop at the edge of her bed, to observe her writhing for her own touch.

She thinks about Ben. Openly, knowingly, picturing his intent stare over her body and his firm & forceful grip — the end of the bed sinking under his weight as he bends to examine her busy hands —

_Show me you're really here…_

One of her legs shake, heel bouncing the mattress as her lips part and she hears herself beg, _Please, I need…_

The fantasy goes on. _Need what, Rey?_

_Y- You —_

She was close before she started, edged to the brink of release from the novelty of what she felt. Inspired to follow her basest impulses, to immediately think about her cunt after sensing a static on her hand. To be so swept into mere recognition, a little bit of care — the very weaknesses she fortified & steeled eons ago.

She hasn't done that in a long time… Aired her life to a stranger, though it was a habit when she was young. Let an older man grab her ass and suck her skin as she sighed his name. But her usual misgivings are muted by a strange longing. By how Ben made her feel prized and beautiful, instead of cheap.

"Fuck —"

She curses aloud, knuckling faster and biting her lip. Tightens hard thinking about all the different ways he could find her right now, stripping her clothes and lying on her covers for him to see. His fingers would linger by her cunt, feathering her slit to tease her opening for his entry. He'd push inside to pump her slowly, twisting when he draws back to hear her whimper… to bring his voice low and say,

_Come real good and loud for me —_

She does. Alone in her apartment, in the dusky light of late afternoon. Her sounds echo off the empty walls and swell in her ears with a darkness she recognizes from her dreams. A shadow keeping her pinned with an urgency — with the same rush of energy she felt touching Ben — 

She presses her cheek to the mattress to stare at the wall, just as her day began. Heart pounding in her ears as she comes down. Her thoughts flit too fast to settle on anything besides a foreboding peering over her shoulder.

Incessant enough that she rises from the bed to change into a navy one-piece swimsuit and take her book & chair to the beach. She watches the postcard sunset sky over the ocean and rubs her thighs together, avoiding all the things she should be considering and unable to concentrate on any of the words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you [SaveTheSpaceWhales](https://archiveofourown.org/users/awishman) and [weddersins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weddersins) for beta reading and for your encouragement 💘
> 
> Link to my [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/theselittlefics) xoxo


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update got a bit long, a little under 10500 words. Hope that is okay! 🙈 Thank you so much again for reading and for your feedback. Excited to share what's next 💝
> 
> Tags added: oral sex, harm to animals, aquariums ~ (not all at the same time hehe)
> 
> Enjoy 😉

Ben wakes up in the bedroom after drifting in & out of sleep on the couch and cannot recall going upstairs. Let the evening pass in another blur of movies while getting lost in his thoughts. The walls are grayed by early morning's light, making the familiar space seem smaller and strange. He listens to the house's silence for several moments, on top of the covers still wearing the outfit he wore the day before. He skims his palm down his thigh, rests his hand where Rey sat. Where she rubbed her cunt on his leg and sighed into his mouth.

The memory stings with regret and he swings his feet to the floor. Rises to change into looser clothes and wander outside.

The half-risen sun brightens the grass to a crisp dew-shined green. Bends through the fog clouding the trees to cast the shed in shadow. He leaves the bulb off inside, crouches to find his gloves below the bag. Comes to stand slowly, tuning his ears to the silence that follows him to the yard…

No breeze or rustling leaves or passing cars. Like the world granted his wish to let him exit to regain his bearings. Ben wonders if he should be unnerved instead of relieved. His steps seem more certain when he focuses on his stance, when he raises his fists and exhales from his nose. Better not to question the opportunity.

All Ben can hear are his punches and quick breaths, his shuffling feet and the bag twirling on its chain. Soon his limbs burn with exertion, overwhelming all the thoughts chiming in his restless mind:

No diner. No banks. No house, no ring, no date reminders taped to the fridge. Only Ben captaining his physicality in a race against his endurance. Up to him when to swing, to stop, to push, to slow. The shed pales as dawn turns to morning. Eventually a plane flies overhead, low and loud enough to break his reverie.

He wipes his brow with his glove, leaving behind a stripe of sweat. Sets them on the workbench and marches back to house, vowing to come up with a plan for what comes next. For what he's ignored in favor of Rey and their link.

Of course he still thinks about her as he trudges down the hall, up the stairs, into the bedroom to find a fresh towel in a laundry basket. About her bitten lips and pinched features, about the way she slumped to yield to his grip. He takes a cold shower to shock his body back to awareness, in an effort to snap out of his daze —

Time doesn't _really_ stop when he's with Rey. No matter how it may seem. And after fucking up everything with her, he can't lose sight of the rest.

Ben repeats the words to himself again when he pulls on a button-down and jeans. And when he works up the nerve to return to the den. The letters strewn on the floor circle the crooked coffee table in a broken ring. A couple remain sealed. Some envelopes are marked with numbers and names. He kneels to pick them up, making a lopsided pile that falls over when he straightens the table. Ben sighs and rips open the unread letters —

Heart leaping to his throat when he reads the date. Of the next meeting. The one with the bank's final decision. A last ditch effort to avoid the inevitable scrambling for another lawyer, for money, for an excuse to give Chewie about why he waited to tell him until it was already too late.

_Tomorrow._

Ben checks his phone to confirm. Pulls up the reminder in his calendar, unsure if he dismissed the notifications or forgot to pair them with a chirping sound. He scratches his head, fingers the threads fraying at the bottom of his shirt. His and his father's ties went in a donation bin months ago, along with most of Ben's dress shirts after they shrank in the dryer. The ones upstairs would need to be ironed and starched and —

Or he could just buy another. Use it as an excuse to leave the fucking house.

Ben grabs the car keys from his room. Flinches when his skin tingles putting on the ring. He twists the band, feels it again. Pauses before nodding to affirm his decision. Removes the piece and drops it back into the box with a resounding 

_CLUNK_

Ben spins the keyring on his thumb as he descends the stairs, pokes his head in the den one more time to check if Rey is there. Her absence feels like a gift instead of a disappointment — can recite and revise what to say before she next appears. He locks the front door, chilled by the fog that lingers to signal a dreary day. A tree branch cracks faraway. Ben zips his hoodie and hurries down to the car to outpace that recurring feeling of being seen.

He turns back to see a light still on in his room, a bright yellow square against the dull siding. Swallows hard and glances away to fiddle with the radio. Only static on the preset stations. He lowers the volume and adjusts the rearview mirror. The white noise keeps buzzing, growing louder to nudge him to inspect the window just once more. His empty stomach churns against his refusal to appease the suggestion, tugging his curiosity until he relents with a frown — 

A silhouette flits into view, flickers the lamp and raises its arms to pull back its hair into three buns. The shoulders relax under Ben's gaze. The hands drop and the figure turns to walk away.

The room darkens. The static stops.

His mouth dries.

Again all he hears are his own breaths.

Ben's hands shake as he shifts the car into gear and depresses the accelerator to leave. He peels out of the driveway and grinds his teeth, glaring at the road ahead. Maybe Rey will go out somewhere before he returns. He swerves the steering wheel to trace the road's edge at every sharp curve. Gains speed charting the familiar tree-lined paths spidering from his childhood home. Tries to imagine a sterile catalogue filled with endless racks of colored and patterned sets of shirts & ties.

Instead of Rey. Her figure in the bedroom window. The ragged way she said his name. Her wiggling hips when he grabbed her ass. And her tiny noises when he bit her skin. The Benz hugs into the next bend by the creek, barrels through a patch of thick fog —

A deer jumps into the road.

Ben gasps and slams on the brakes.

The car skids and lurches to a stop with a horrific crunching screech.

The seatbelt snaps Ben against the seat, digs into his collarbone as his chest heaves. His head rushes with adrenaline, his heart pounding wildly as he gazes at the animal. Completely frozen and unblinking, only inches from the front bumper.

He got really fucking lucky.

Ben waits a few moments for the deer to move. Unlatches the belt, leans across the wheel to knock on the windshield and honk the horn.

"Hey!"

Nothing. Doesn't even flinch.

Ben glances behind him. No cars approaching from either way. He honks the horn again, holds it down for a couple seconds to make a long horrible beep. He smacks the dashboard cover and shouts,

"Hey —"

— finally rousing the thing from its suspended state. It takes slow timid steps, trotting along his side of the car. Ben's pulse cutting through the silence in the vehicle is almost deafening.

The deer halts. Snaps to turn its head and meets Ben's eyes.

He taps the gear selector. Straightens his posture, clicks in the seatbeat without looking away. Pauses to steel his nerves.

Ben rolls the window down.

Another beat.

The jaw drops open. Words feather gently into Ben's thoughts like it's been invited to speak…

_…Maybe it will all just go away._

No.

No fucking way —

The Benz clunks into drive. The tires squeal as Ben speeds off, the deer shrinking to a fuzzy spot and ribboning to disappear. He connects up to the numbered state road, still scenic with its crowded towering trees. Ben pulls into the first lot he sees, parks outside a closed antiques store. Turns off the car, rests his arms and forehead on the steering wheel —

Struggles to unwind the tightness crowding his ribs. The looming reality of his mental state becoming too disruptive to ignore. Almost crashed the car. Heard a deer talking in his head. He counts each inhale, pictures his stance and his fists connecting with the punching bag. Maybe he should eat. Maybe he should call someone.

_Get a grip._

Ben sits up. Nods to affirm his resolve. Later. After the meeting tomorrow. He can worry about this then.

The ignition whirrs to a start. Ben turns on the radio. Rolls the window up and leaves the volume down, even though he recognizes the tune. He narrows his focus to the motions of his feet & wrists. Clears his mind of everything but maintaining the vehicle's position in between the white and yellow lines. Manages to drive the handful of miles north to the mall, and lets himself stroll through all the stores he can't afford and get lost in the crowd.

✖❌✖❌

Rey fluffs the pillows on her bed with a loud smack, props them up to relax here instead of the living room. The thought of seeing Ben is too dizzying to risk it right now, in this last bit of time before leaving. She wears her hair up in her buns, on top of the blankets in her aquarium logo t-shirt and khaki shorts. Successfully spent most of the morning out of the apartment running errands to avoid any… emotional turmoil only hours before volunteering.

She'll be stationed at one of the exhibits as usual, expected to wear a smile and share facts and remind children not to smudge their fingerprints on the glass. Last time she was there was when the man gave her the ever-dropping coin.

Somehow feels like forever ago now.

Rey spends her last minutes at home searching Ben's name online. Looking for a way to dissuade herself of her desires, to excise that sliver of longing that remains. She threw herself at him and he made it clear he isn't interested. Needs to prepare for inevitably seeing him again.

He's not the only Ben Solo. Not even the first five that pop up. She doesn't think. Types in a new search instead of following any of the links:

_ben solo connecticut_

First result is a diner's "Our History" page, made on a web builder that turns it all to plain text and weirdly-sized photos on the mobile browser. Offhandedly mentions the owner's son Ben Solo. Includes a vacation photo of a family leaning in playful poses against a heavily-customized RV. A man with a laidback smile and gray hair. An older woman wearing sunglasses on her forehead with pinned braids and sharp eyes. Rey zooms in on the lanky teenager with dark floppy hair, forcing a perfunctory grin. The caption confirms it's him: Han, Leia, and Ben with the "Millennium Falcon."

_Quaint,_ she comments internally. Same dismissive word she's always used to evaluate similar photos over the years. Of families.

Rey goes back and finds their obituaries on the second result's page.

She bites her cheek reading the dates. A guilt tightens her chest, chiding herself for being so… cavalier. Less than a year ago. Not long at all. Another tab and simple search leads to a local news story about a married couple going down in a small four-seater plane. Catastrophic mechanical failure, no evidence of pilot error or foul play. She clicks out. Scans the obituaries once more, sees his mother's parents listed in passing —

Ben said the ring belonged to his grandfather. One he knows nothing about. Rey glances to her open bedroom door to check he's not there. Rereads the three names (Padme Amidala-Organa, Bail Organa, Anakin Skywalker). Considers copying them to her notes app, but cannot excuse the invasive feeling the suggestion leaves.

Rey shakes her head. Goes back to the search again. Ben was on the high school honor roll a few times, listed on the town newspaper's archived webpage. Rey uses it to calculate his age. He did a charity boxing match at some point, nearly fifteen years ago. No active social media that she can see. Most recent item is three-years-old, a caption on an NYC artists' scene blog page:

"Mixed media artist Gwen Phasma with her partner Armitage Hux, and Ben Solo."

Ben stands to the side, leaning in awkwardly like the photographer motioned him to come into the frame. His large hand conceals most of his drink, whiskey on the rocks. Dressed more casually than his companions, wearing a black sportcoat and t-shirt underneath. The redhead in a well-cut suit and skinny tie must be Armitage, with one arm circled around a statuesque blonde's waist. Their height difference reminds Rey of Poe and Amilyn. The woman even has a delicately-coiffed bob and an elegant dress lined with Victorian lace.

Rey frowns. Maybe Ben is too… sophisticated for her, she reasons. She's never been to an _art show_ in _New York City,_ probably finds her crude. But his story checks out, so far at least.

Rey sets the phone down on her chest. Wiggles her toes and watches a dust bunny fall from the ceiling fan. Checks the time to see very few moments left. Bites the same spot of her cheek, stirred by a doubt to check one more thing.

She searches The State's public court records.

Ben's there. Same town as the honor roll newspaper and everything. An eleven-year-old drunk driving charge, suspended license, ignition interlock device, community service. Nothing else.

A lump wells in her throat. Ancient dumb mistake. She shouldn't have this… suspicion that remains, that reminds her she knows next to nothing about the guy at all and —

Rey looks up all three bordering states.

Rhode Island and Massachusetts turn up empty. Turns over to New York. Her stomach flips. More than one entry. Nine-year-old misdemeanor and fine for 2.5 ounces of marijuana. Class D felony for grand larceny of a vehicle. Sentenced to five years and out in two for good behavior. 

He was released four years ago.

Rey blinks. Looks at the time again —

"Shit!"

She scrambles off the bed, throws the phone in her totebag and tears through the front door. She runs back up the stairs when she's halfway down to lock it, hears furniture scraping tile inside. Her hands shake on the railings as she skips every other step, as she struggles with her car's manual lock. Drops the keys below her seat before she even gets it to start.

"Shit, shit, shit —" She moves the seat back to grab them, chides herself again clacking it into place. "— fucking twice in one week —"

The aquarium isn't work but she hasn't run this late in a year at least. The head coordinator will be in today and Rey detests leaving her with a bad impression. She catches more red lights than usual on her way, even the drawbridge over the Intracoastal.

"Fuck!" Rey groans, smacking the steering wheel as an oversized yacht chugs under the bridge. "Come on!"

Eventually the road reconnects and she speeds inland, passing vehicles at every opportunity. Turns hard into the entrance and coasts the brakes to slow into one of the parking spots around back. None available in the shade. She flips down the mirror, meets her weary eyes briefly with a sigh.

_Only a few hours._

She fakes a smile that bares her teeth, brushes away a lock of hair. Adjusts the collar of her t-shirt, cut high enough to cover the dips towards her shoulders. No more time available to waste.

Rey scrambles through the side entrance, nods to a couple familiar faces as she hurries to the volunteer office at the end of the hallway. Fifteen minutes late. The coordinator barely looks up from the event flyer proofs fanned over her desk. She gestures towards the badges hanging by the login terminal with a grunt instead of her usually effusive greetings.

Rey rushes, "Sorry I'm late —"

"S'fine. Need you at the Local Waters exhibit, octopus tank."

"— O- Okay." Rey drops her lanyard, focuses on steadying her hands picking it up from the floor.

"Are you doing camp again this summer?" she hears above her head.

"Not sure yet," Rey answers honestly. They do pay the counselors, but last summer she didn't work at the bar. "I should know pretty soon —"

"Posting season's job listings end of month. Before then."

"— Right." Rey takes a deep breath, heads towards the exit. Unsure what to make of the woman's clipped & distracted tone.

"Next two months' citizen science events are posted on the board," she calls after Rey. "Still doing the beach tour coming up, right?"

"Y- Yeah," she replies. "I am."

"— Great. See ya."

She completely forgot. Rey confirms it's listed in her phone's calendar while locking up her totebag in the backroom. Paying her under the table to be one of the guides for a homeschool co-op field trip. Her mind races as she heads to the exhibit, working to determine what else she's forgotten while… _reeling_ from whatever's happening with Ben.

She's forgotten to post her service listings. Always some old snowbird looking for cheap vehicle repairs, always surprised to see a young woman arrive. Rey crosses her arms at her station to suppress the flutter in her chest — the tiny part of her that finds it _serendipitous_ that Ben served time for stealing cars, of all things.

Rey knows how to steal a car. It isn't difficult. She's never actually done it, though the opportunity arose more than once. Turned down an acquaintance in Des Moines when asked to participate in a lucrative insurance scam. But it took her a day to decide. The risk was low. The money was tempting.

She can't say she doesn't… understand.

_To some degree,_ she hurries to add. Shouldn't invent excuses for a man she barely knows. Ben said he took over his father's diner recently, after a decade away. Only a portion was spent in a cell. Who knows what he did before and after that.

Rey sighs. Sulking over whether she's fancy enough for a convicted felon. Worrying about what she did wrong, about what she's missing — why he finds her so repulsive despite his obvious attraction, why he made her stop —

Fuck, she knew she was pathetic. But this is ridiculous. Making justifications for someone merely because they showed her some attention. Thankfully her exhibit is empty. Barely any visitors, probably why the coordinator didn't care she was late. The Local Waters exhibit has a handful of tanks and informational displays, with the octopus in the far corner of one room. Quarren usually hides in the hollow shells at the bottom of his habitat, but has a couple tentacles peeking out today. _Kind of like he's saying hi,_ Rey observes, giving him a little wave.

"— Oh, they have an octopus too —"

Rey startles upright hearing a child's loud voice and hurried footsteps. Spins around and steps out of the way to see a young girl, maybe seven- or eight-years-old, peeling away from her mother pushing a stroller by the tides map. She peers closely at the creature, her nose only a couple inches from the glass.

"I really like this octopus," the girl announces.

Rey isn't sure if she's speaking to her, but welcomes the distraction either way. "Yeah, Quarren is a nice guy. You know what kind of —"

"_Octopus vulgaris,_" she recites, not reading the sign. "Common octopus."

"That's right," Rey replies with a forced smile. Usually she enjoys these interactions, but it all feels so false instead. The child yammers on without missing a beat, 

"Does he hide a lot?"

"Yes, surprised he's showing off this much today," Rey offers conversationally. "This guy is usually more shy —"

"Octopus are _always_ shy," the girl declares proudly. "They're nocturnal. And like to squeeze and sleep in objects on the ocean floor."

"That they do," Rey chuckles. "You're pretty sharp. Maybe you should come help us here at the aquarium."

"I gotta finish elementary school first," she replies very seriously. The mother snickers, meets Rey's eyes briefly with a bright grin as her daughter asks, "What's your favorite thing about octopus? Mine is the ink. Have you ever seen him ink?"

"Quarren? No, he's pretty chill. The guy we had before him, yes. They only ink when they're fleeing or scared."

"What's your favorite thing?" the girl repeats.

Rey bites inside her cheek, files through her memorized facts to determine a quick response. "Hmm. Did you know octopus are colorbind?"

The child turns to Rey, crinkling her nose. "Yeah and they taste with their suckers. So what?"

Heh. Kids never conceal their opinions and it never fails to be refreshing. Rey crouches by the girl's side to look into the tank, at her eye level as she points to Quarren and explains,

"What's neat about them being colorblind is that they camouflage their skin's color anyway, in less than one-tenth a second." Rey snaps for dramatic effect. "They adapt to what they don't know is there, match up to what they can't even see. They sense it somehow, in a special way that we —" Rey points between her and the girl. "— that we can't detect. Another one of the ocean's many mysteries."

"Hmm, I'll figure it out." The girl shrugs, turns to Rey with a quick nod. "Thank you for the octopus and have a great day," she bids in a single breath.

"You too," Rey replies, waving as she skips back to her mother who mouths _thank you_ from afar. 

The child chatters as they browse the room, sharing facts at nearly every station. Rey leans against the wall, captivated by the simplicity of the girl's innocent excitement until they leave. Wishes she still saw everything that same way. The room feels too quiet when they leave. One of the ceiling lights flicker. She scratches off the last of the scab on her upper arm. Really has to pee.

Rey runs into one of the caretakers on her way out of the bathroom. They fall into stride winding through the hallways towards the Local Waters exhibit.

"How's Quarren doing?" Jannah asks. "Was acting a little off yesterday."

"Showing more of himself than usual." Rey fiddles with her badge, feels the lanyard scratch her neck.

"You wanna feed him?" Jannah offers, holding out the large cooler at her side. "Got crabs for him today."

"Yeah… sure," Rey answers, clasping her hands behind her back. Even her peers treat her like a little kid.

"Good stuff." She rummages through one of her cargo pockets, pulls out a pair of plastic yellow gloves. The women approach Quarren's tank. "Here, maybe let's start with —"

_CRACK_

Jannah drops the cooler.

Rey shrieks.

Quarren is out of his spot and all over his tank, each tentacle shorn from the middle and chopped into bits like he was sliced by a fanning blade. The curled ends still react tapping against the glass, stirring clouds of blue blood darkening the water. His mantle is ripped down the middle, half floating towards the top and the other half displaying a drooping barely-attached beak.

"What the…" Jannah's voice is close to her ear, warbles and drops into a low buzzing that drowns part of her words. "Did… see anything… before —"

"N- N- No, I —"

Rey pushes the syllables from her lips without recognizing what they mean. Melting ice and dead feed fish spread all over the slate floor, soaking through the sides of her canvas shoes. Her knees buckle as her stomach turns over from the smell and sight, firm hands grabbing her shoulders as her surroundings start to fade.

"Rey… are you…"

"I- I don't know!" she chokes.

The buzzing drones louder, searing across every synapse in her brain with an urge to flee. Jannah tightens her grip, her gloves sticking like suckers on bare skin.

"Here, come on," she insists, guiding Rey towards a bench. "Sit and —"

Rey wobbles upright, her cheeks stinging with tears. "I don't —"

She staggers backwards into the seat, flinches away from Jannah to clap her hands over her ears. The noise slides to a higher pitch and the room sharpens back into view.

"Do you hear —"

Rey meets Jannah's eyes, softened by concern beneath raised eyebrows. Her expression betrays her response before she shakes her head.

All goes quiet again, save for Rey's shallow breaths and pounding heart. Goosebumps stipple all the flesh down her limbs. She drops her hands to wring them in her lap, unable to hold Jannah's gaze. The woman takes a seat beside Rey, leans to squeeze her shoulder,

"Hear what?" she asks softly. "Did you see someone come through or —"

"N- No…"

Jannah nods, turns away to watch the tank in disbelief. It appears to be untampered, the pumps swirling blood and working normally.

"How did this —"

"I didn't see…"

Rey can't even finish, slumps to rest her elbows on her knees and cover her face with her hands. Footsteps approach from the hallway and the volunteer coordinator calls,

"Are you okay? Someone heard —"

Rey doesn't even look up when she screams.

✖❌✖❌

Ben returns from the kitchen with a yogurt and spoon, peels the lid open and double-checks the surface before taking a bite. His new shirt & tie hang on the closet door upstairs, able to settle on something eventually. The ride home from the mall was uneventful. The day remains dreary with scattered rain, lightly fogging the window in the den to darken the afternoon-grayed room. Ben switches on a lamp instead of the overhead. Checks outside to see no shadowy outlines of deer, women, or shampoo kiosk salesmen jumping into view. The house is empty as usual. The TV is off. The letters are already sorted and restacked. His pile of papers clipped in a folder on his dresser waiting to be taken to the bank.

Nothing left to prepare while waiting. At least the yogurt hasn't gone bad since yesterday.

Ben imagines looking down to steady his footsteps on the concrete pathway towards wide glass double-doors. Checking through his papers one more time in the hallway outside the conference room. The tiny moments of diversion that do nothing to delay the inevitable. He leaves his phone screen-down on the coffee table, props his feet on the surface and debates whether to give up & sleep before sundown instead of bothering to think —

And Rey. He hasn't seen or heard any sign of her at all. Not since seeing her in the window this morning. (Assuming it was her. He doesn't really know.) Ben sighs, tosses the yogurt in the kitchen and stares at the beverages in the fridge. He cracks a soda, tests the carbonation with a quick sip —

The front door swings open, hitting the wall like it was forced by a burst of air. Brisk footsteps stomp and spin to slam it closed. 

Ben nearly loses the can in his hand, catches it clumsily and spills part of the drink. He sets it down, tears off a wad of paper towels from the roll. Holds his breath as he crouches to clean it, struggling to distinguish the flurry of sound that follows.

Tiny sniffles. Shuffling feet. A zipper. The lock clunking into place. A pair of objects falling on the floor, rolling to a stop like kicked-off shoes. Ben wipes away the last drops, crumples the paper in his fist. A second's pause before the noises start again. A sharp inhale. A rustle of fabric muffled by a barely-stifled sob.

His jaw tenses, mind racing with both anticipation and dread. He recognizes Rey's gentle motions, her little gasps for breath as she tries to suppress her tears. Reduced to a mess again less than a day later, maybe by a stranger or her careless "friend" —

Or maybe him. His throat dries with the thought.

Ben freezes, stays hidden in the kitchen as Rey paces the foyer. She repeats it three times, comes to a stop with a long drawn sigh. Then her footsteps trail upwards, slowly fading like she's ascending the stairs. The door to his room claps shut. The ceiling creaks above his head.

He comes to stand slowly, balancing his weight on the counter. Taps the surface to release a spurt of nervous energy. Undecided if she's just wandered away or disappeared…

…Or maybe Rey is still there, crying into one of the pillows on his bed.

Ben can't say a part of him doesn't enjoy the idea of smelling her as he falls asleep, even though he probably shouldn't. Not when he heard her fleeing in tears. He approaches the stairway, that same light flickers passing beneath. He'll change it when he remembers again tomorrow. Carefully places his feet to keep silent going up —

That ugly art deco clock ticks over his rapid heartbeat.

He halts again at the landing.

The door to his room is cracked open, bounced instead of latching shut. His nightstand lamp creates a soft yellow stripe like bright sunlight peeking through window-blinds.

The mattress squeaks.

Ben swallows hard, hovering his hand above the doorknob. After the way he ended things yesterday, he should announce his arrival instead of barging in — _into his own room,_ he observes disbelievingly, as if it belongs to her instead.

He raps his knuckles timidly. No response.

Ben tries again, louder and more firmly. "Rey?"

Another bounce of springs.

He clears his throat. "Rey, are you —"

"I- I can't do this right now," she croaks. "Another time. Okay? I —"

Should have expected that she wouldn't want to see him. "Do you want me to… to leave?" he suggests at a strange pitch. "I can, I can go back downstairs until it stops, or —"

"— No, Ben, I —"

"Sorry, I'll just —"

"— Please don't leave."

His stomach lurches when he turns around. "Are — Are you sure?"

The hinges whine as he pushes the door open. Ben tries to maintain a stoic expression as he appraises the scene. Rey lies on her back, resting on top of his comforter and staring at the ceiling. She scurries to sit up, keeping her legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. Plucks the corner of her t-shirt sleeve to dry the wet streaks on her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, "I just…"

"Don't be sorry," Ben insists, leaving the door open behind him. "It's okay. Are you — are you okay?"

Rey shakes her head. "Obviously not."

He hesitates at the end of his bed. Her legs are mostly bared, only part of her thighs covered by utilitarian khaki shorts. The soles of her feet are dingy, like she walked through a puddle between the foyer and bedsheets. Her bright blue t-shirt is fitted loose, cut close enough to faintly show the outlines of her breasts. The fabric is too messed and crinkled to distinguish the silkscreened name & logo, obviously using it as a handkerchief for a while already. Her hair sticks out by her ears, clings to parts of her neck. Ben shifts his weight, leans to see his extra pillow propped against the headboard. Stained by tiny wings of black mascara splotched with tears, remaining static instead of disappearing without her contact.

_Another broken pattern._ Or another coincidental overlap. He glances to the wooden box left out on his dresser. Works to keep his voice steady as he asks,

"Is there anything I can —"

"How can I trust you?"

He snaps to meet her hardened glare, shrinking at her tone despite standing above her and looking down to meet her gaze. Rey straightens her shoulders to seem taller, folding her hands across her lap in an exaggerated show of modesty.

"W- What do you mean?" Ben stammers.

She exhales, crinkling her nose. "How can I… What else are you hiding from me, Ben Solo?"

Her eyes search his for a reaction. And the implication puzzles into place just a moment too late —

"— What did you do after you got out of prison?" She crosses her arms, tilts her chin defiantly. "Dabble in more slinging? Move up to armed robbery?"

His mouth slacks wordlessly, more amused than offended by the accusation. "No. Went back to waiting tables like I did before."

"Uch," she grunts. Obviously thinks he's lying. "Sure, I'm supposed to believe that —"

"You try getting a job with a felony lately?"

"_No,_" she snaps, like it wasn't rhetorical.

"Find my speeding ticket in Vermont too?"

She rolls her eyes. "What's your deal? Seriously."

Rey isn't crying anymore. He serves as a decent distraction at least. Can't even say he blames her for not trusting what he told her, especially in this day and age —

(But he didn't lie, he rationalized as he replayed yesterday's conversation over & over between countless tie rack displays. It didn't come up. Would've told her eventually… maybe.)

— "You're smart. To look me up, you know."

"You're evading," she huffs, face flushing a deeper shade of pink. 

"I'm serious." He gestures to the edge of the mattress. "You really want to know?"

Her throat moves as she swallows. She scoots up, props the pillow to cushion her back against the headboard. Keeps her arms crossed tightly, wiggles her cute little toes. Nods to signal her assent.

Rey scrutinizes his motions as he sits at the end of the bed. The mattress sinks beneath his weight. She resettles her hips and answers,

"Yes. I do. Want to know."

"It's boring," he prefaces honestly. Perches forward to rest his elbows on his knees, sighing to gain an extra moment to collect his memories.

The lamplight glows a touch brighter as the sun begins to descend and end the long afternoon. He runs his fingers through his hair, glances over to see Rey steeled with intense focus. She raises her eyebrows with an exasperated frown. He begins,

"…Went to a two-year college here. Came time to transfer for my Bachelor's only to find all the money set aside had disappeared. _After_ all the deadlines passed, of course." He pauses. After this many years, it seems so small in hindsight. "Made good money working fine dining here. Drank too much. Went to the City. Better tabs. Bussed tables, sold weed. Actually, spent most of it as a sommelier —"

Rey narrows her eyes. Waiting for him to get to the point.

"— And picked up some shifts fixing bikes. European cars. ATVs. Owner ran a fighting ring in the Bronx. Yonkers. Paid me to throw fights. Beat the odds, win big. That kind of thing. Money was good. School became less… of a thing. Became not a thing entirely."

Ben sees her cleaning her nails uncomfortably in his periphery. She slaps them to her sides like he caught her red-handed.

"G- Go on."

"Well." He pauses. "The sommelier thing, the boxing ring. Met some people with more… high-scale contacts in Manhattan. Brooklyn. One thing led to another, picked up shifts at this new place —"

(He recalls his insides twisting seeing red & blue lights flitting over the rearview mirror. The siren chirping to urge him off the next exit. Looking down at the gas tank & speed, realizing the difference between five years and twenty all depended on what he did next. He flipped on the blinker.)

"— Glamorized chop shop?"

Ben nods, tucks his hair behind one ear so Rey doesn't think he's hiding his face. "Exactly. Just easily cycled stuff mostly, then, ah —" He grinds his teeth. "— things got a little hectic when guy got too big for his head. Foreign imports. Had us fanning out of the boroughs. Stupid shit, like transporting on highways." Another pause. "Got pulled over on the FDR in a stolen Toyota Camry. Kind of lucky really. Charges are based on value in New York City —"

Rey snickers. "A _Toyota Camry._"

Like she expected differently. He blinks. "I… yeah. I said it was boring." He adds, "Parts sell quickly."

"A Toyota Camry…" she mutters to herself again, appearing to stare out his window in profile. Her eyelids flutter closed above her pout. "And then what? What else — What else are you leaving out?"

"Nothing really." It's the truth. "Crashed at a friend's after getting out. Ran bottle service at some clubs. More auto repairs. A coffee shop." Ben leans back on his wrists, mindful of keeping his distance from Rey's feet. "Just… going between paychecks until I got the call. Crossing over the 59th Street Bridge."

"What call?" she asks bluntly.

"My parents. Went down in a plane."

"Ah."

"Nothing else. Feel free to ask — to ask Poe about me." Fuck, he really hopes she doesn't but has no idea what else to offer after… after all that. Talking about himself more than he has in —

"I wouldn't even know what to say," Rey whispers.

"About what?"

"To Poe. About you." She squirms uneasily. "Just… nevermind. Didn't say anything." She smooths the bottom of her shirt, mostly caked dry. "What's…"

She trails off, unsure whether to continue. Finally turns to look at him again.

"…What's the most expensive car you've driven?"

That's the last thing he anticipated. He stumbles for a response, "Driven? Or —"

"Both." The corners of her lips turn up mischievously. Almost like she's teasing him.

"Parked a McLaren when I worked as a valet in college. Still haven't topped that." Another beat. "And since you asked. A Corvette Grand Sport."

"_Fancy,_" she comments with a dry sarcastic air. Still plays with her shirt, tearing off a frayed string. "Bar regular brought his Rolls Royce Phantom a few months ago. After grilling me about engines one night. Let me drive it around the block."

"Never been inside one of those," Ben admits. "You, uh, also —"

"I'm a woman of many talents," Rey quips. "All borne from grit and necessity." She chuckles at her own joke, slumping into the bed as her laughter fades.

"— What the fuck am I doing?"

Ben isn't sure if she's speaking to herself or to him. "W- What do you —"

"Chatting with you. About your criminal record like it's some… _cheerful point of conversation_ or —"

"You asked," Ben reminds her, internally wincing at the automatic response. He moves to get up from his seat. "Sorry, I'll —"

"No —"

He spins around to see her bending forward as if readying to follow. Balancing on one hand and moving to extend the other, pleading with those three words again,

"— Please don't leave. I don't…"

Ben studies her weary expression as he sinks into the mattress. Somehow she's still here, illuminated by a stronger light that makes her shine a touch brighter than the rest of his room. Reclining on his bed, peppering him with questions but begging him not to go.

There's something he's missing. Her chest swells as she inhales deeply and admits,

"…I don't want to be alone. Right now."

"I'm here," he blurts out. "You're not —"

"You don't have to be here if —"

"I want to be," he insists. "Stop telling me I don't."

She shrinks back, angling her nose down towards her legs. Long and graceful, still smooth and tanned and rubbing together as his stare lingers.

_…Like yesterday._

Despite her movements being too skittish for his comfort, not entirely relaxed by her shifted tone. Her t-shirt is still ratty from her runny nose and tears. The mattress creaks as Ben leans in to ask her again,

"Are you okay?"

"Honestly?" She shrugs. "I don't really know."

Ben thinks he understands what she means. "Beyond the supernatural connection thing, I mean."

That makes her smile. Just a bit. "Have you told anyone about it? About this."

"No. Have you?"

Rey shakes her head. "How would I even explain?"

No canned response for that. Ben stays silent, observes her features drain as she chooses her next question carefully,

"Has anything… happened to you outside your house?"

Every syllable is heavy, weighed by a gravity that Ben can't define but he's certain he's felt. That sense of foreboding like a swinging blade. Or maybe he's reaching too far, looking for any excuse to tell himself he's not insane. 

He replies with equal caution. "What do you mean?"

She hesitates. "Anything… strange?"

"…Maybe."

Their eyes meet again. Rey arches one brow, noting his cryptic response. Her quest for answers overrides her obvious discomfort. A hint of inquisitive discovery darkens her gaze, drawing a line between more similarities —

"Like what?" she presses.

"You tell me." This is the kind of conversation that he would… prefer she lead.

"Like with animals. That kind of —"

All his nerves cringe to attention. His posture stiffens as he scoots closer and asks,

"What do you mean?"

It comes out more breathless than intended, tempered by enough desperation for him to wonder if she notices. Rey doesn't flinch, too preoccupied by her own memories to detect anything.

"Something happened earlier. That's why I was so upset." She fiddles with one of her buns.

Ben blinks. "With an animal?"

"Yeah. At the aquarium today. And the beach the other day." Her hand drops back to her lap. "I don't know if it's related to this or what, but —"

Rey looks up. "I don't have anyone else to ask."

He shifts his jaw. "What happened?"

"Octopus at the aquarium just… exploded." She presses her lips to a line. "I didn't see it happen. Came back to the tank and he was shredded to bits. Was so… upset that I got sent home."

"Is that — abnormal? For an octopus to…"

She smirks, entertained by his ignorance. "Yeah. They're checking surveillance cameras to see if anyone came through. Vandal. Poison. Maybe."

Ben knows it isn't the whole story. Recalls the deer's hanging jaw and glazed expression from that morning. He brings his voice low,

"…But you're not so sure."

"Yeah." Her pause is longer this time. "There was a- a ringing, really loud, and no one else — heard anything. It was just me." Her eyes glass as she inhales through her nose. "You're going to think I'm crazy —"

"Try me."

More of a challenge than she realizes. Rey wets her lips. He inches over to listen and she rushes,

"A dead fish talked to me on the beach the other day and I heard the noise then too." She stops to take a deep breath. "So, yeah, like I said, I don't know if it's, if it's related or not or —"

Rey loses the end of her thought as she studies his face, staring through him in that incisive way she has before.

His fingers crease the blanket.

"— Something like that happened to you too," she says simply.

His face must have betrayed him again. "Yes."

"Dead fish?"

"Live deer."

She moves lower on the bed as she covers her face and exclaims,

"What the fuck is happening!"

Her body is much nearer than when they began, flat on the mattress with her nose pointed towards the ceiling. She bends her knees, lays her feet flat and groans from behind her hands,

"I- I feel like I'm going fucking crazy. Waiting for something to happen and I just —"

Rey sighs heavily.

"— I just had a really shitty day." Her hands fall to her sides. "Yeah."

The position hikes her shorts down her thighs. Only inches from his fingertips. Here in his old room where he lost his virginity in high school, with the house empty on a foggy afternoon. The parallel codes the interaction as a wishful dream more than nostalgic memory. Like these four walls are suspended in another world where they truly sit together instead of being alone.

Rain picks up outside, gently taps the windowpane. Ben checks the time. Earlier than it seems.

"I know the feeling," he tells her. "Like you're going fucking crazy." No reaction. "You said you had no one to ask but. You can… ask me."

She twiddles her thumbs below her breasts. Both of them so far avoiding how abruptly he stopped her yesterday. Maybe she's relieved, views it as a brief lapse of judgment already —

"I don't… I don't want to do this right now, Ben."

Her throat bobs again. He freezes. "Okay."

"I'm tired of thinking about all this. I'm just… tired."

A familiar exhaustion trails her refusal. The only thing he ever really recognizes anymore.

"…Yeah," he agrees.

"It's a lot," she adds, even though she doesn't have to explain.

"Yeah." He taps the bedspread, not wanting their conversation to end so soon. "I am glad about one thing though."

"What's that?"

"— Meeting you."

Her cheeks shine red. "Cute."

He means it. "You don't believe me."

"You — already made your opinion clear." She swallows and hurries to adds, "I said I'm tired of thinking about all this already."

Ben coasts his hand towards her hips. She doesn't turn to look at him, but doesn't move away.

"You don't have to think about it." He keeps his voice low like he might wake up the house.

Fabric rustles when she wiggles her toes again. "Later."

The bedroom seems smaller. The quiet that follows feels different, underpinned by a knowledge neither of them has addressed. Those minutes where they got lost in their embrace until they let the rest fade into a rush for the other's touch —

"You don't have to think about it right now." His fingertips stop an inch from her side. "If you don't want to."

Her legs stay bent, knees closed and feet still flat. He hesitates another second. Drifts closer and carefully until his fingers brush her, flinching from the initial contact like static electricity.

Rey holds still.

He traces his knuckles under her thigh.

The muscles tense unconsciously.

"You don't have to think about anything right now," he reminds her, grazing inward across the soft plane of skin.

Her pelvis cinches lower, stirring from his proximity. He feathers the edges of her shorts, senses a warmth under his hand. Her thighs part as he presses along the inner seams.

Ben peeks up, meeting Rey's widened eyes. Her breath hitches. He crawls up the mattress, rests on his side with her laying so near. Watching her face to see her guarded expressions change, refusing to break their gaze. Two fingers trail the stitches between her legs, push the bumped knotty fabric against her entrance.

The pressure blooms with that same warmth. He hears her fidget with the sheet.

"…It's just us here," he whispers.

She nods, knees spreading just a little more —

Ben reangles his hand. Rey closes her eyes when he starts rubbing circles along her opening. He smooths up the crease with his knuckles, drawing higher to find her clit. Nudges against the same spot when she bites her lip.

"Ben —"

His name ends with a tiny gasp. He pushes harder to hear it again, gently increasing his speed. Her heels skid over the sheets as she repositions her feet, recoiling from the strange echo where they touch. The reverberation fuzzes against his hand, muted by the barriers between their skin. He leans in to speak by her ear, hovering by her mouth to hear every single sound she makes.

"You like that?" he asks.

"Y- Yeah —"

Ben presses his body against her side, closing the last inches of distance on his bed. His nerves flare at each point of contact, hardening his breaths. The house is completely silent of everything but the rain on his bedroom window. The noises Rey makes despite her attempted restraint.

"Not a fluke?" he exhales by her neck.

"No…"

She turns her head as he bends to kiss her, rests one palm on his cheek. He shivers and tastes her tongue, his face threading with a strange but soothing energy. Rey relaxes into the mattress, fanning wider to bump against his fingers. He kneads harder, mind swimming as she groans into his mouth — her cunt heated enough to feel it through her clothes — 

Her teeth catch his bottom lip as he disconnects, pulling back with a grin from the sting. She drops her hand, the room levels. A quiet _zip_ darkens her half-lidded gaze.

Ben feels her squirming under his weight as she pulls down her shorts. He bunches her t-shirt above her bra (plain, tan, thin padding). Splays his palms over her ribs to watch her middle disappear beneath his span.

"Fuck —"

He says it without thinking, awestruck by her reactions to every touch. Barely paws higher before Rey grunts to sit up, abs tensing to beat that static into his forearms. She swats his hands away, hikes her shorts below her knees. Unhooks her own bra, peels her shirt over her head. Ben fumbles to tug down her bottoms, staring at her instead of watching his hand.

She hunches to shrug off the straps, blushed from forehead to collarbone. Shoves aside her top when it flops into her lap, fading to disappear instead of hitting the floor. Uncurls her body to display her round little tits, her pebbled nipples sticking out and holding his gaze. They flatten as she lays back on the bed, lets his hand guide her legs open as he slides it in between her knees. 

He props himself on one elbow. Smudges his fingers into her underwear, curls around the damp strip of fabric to brush his nails against her slit. Pets her matted curly hairs, his heart pounding in his chest. She inhales sharply, prompting him to look up at her face —

"Your —"

He gapes at the marks on her shoulders, the bruise just below the dip of her neck. All light but visible, evidence of his presence blemishing her flawless body. Rey nods, shaking as she traces the spots.

"I- I'm really here," she insists, gently rocking her hips.

_Fuck,_ he can't believe she's so hot for a loser like him.

He pulls aside her underwear, slides two fingers into her cunt — slick, ready, and present — cringes when she tightens hard, flaring a vivid swell of energy —

"Oh my god," Rey chokes, kicking one of her legs. "T- That feels —"

She whimpers as he withdraws, rubbing her thighs together when he grinds against her side to feel the static on his cock. Bobs along his tip wiggling to roll down her underwear, getting him warmed and half-hard, somewhat daunted by the sensation's novelty. He kisses her sternum, lays his cheek on her chest to hear her racing pulse threading into the echo. Her body rises under his head as he watches her uncover her cunt —

The air flowers with her scent.

A gust of wind whistles low outside.

The lamplit room spins in a dreamy haze.

_It was her._

Rey's legs are lean from this view, bent open for the empty foot of the bed. With his closet cracked in the background, tomorrow's outfit hanging on the door. He rests his hand on her stomach to bring it close to his nose, trying not to inhale too deeply. Not wanting to scare her off when he already has her naked before removing any of his clothes.

_How is this even real —_

Her fingers drift between her thighs. He remembers the way she grinded on his pants. She seems so tiny with his ear to her heart and her tits in his hair.

"Show me," he bids.

Rey doesn't hesitate, shivers when she starts rubbing her clit. Ben studies her quick circles, her tips curling to flick lightly, the odd angle of her wrist. Sighs into the warmth seeping through his trousers from her body, inspiring him to incite her further. He lifts his head to lick her tits — 

"Ah —"

She whines when he uses his teeth. Her elbow bumps into him as she keeps pleasuring herself obediently. Her nipples stay pebbled under his tongue, perfect little mouthfuls in his jaw. Ben kisses across her torso to taste her dried sweat, leaves a shiny trail of spit. Her breaths grow confused and ragged, her nerves struggling to adjust to the resonance just like his.

Ben kneels to catch her lips again, grabbing her wrist to halt her movements. Keeps their hands pinned together between them, rolls his pelvis against her. The mattress creaks as he sinks onto her body, her scent making him dizzy. She kisses him eagerly, wiggling to create friction against his clothes and sense the dulled vibration all over her skin. They touch each other everywhere, swept into whatever's happening. He thinks about how wet and narrow she'd feel bouncing on his cock. How she'd part her legs and wring him harshly, flooding him with a damp heat.

_Don't be stupid,_ he reminds himself during a second of lucidity, trying to reel back his agitated instinct. Something larger than both of them may be at work, something they've seen & felt and haven't identified yet — 

— FUCK he wants to be inside her so badly he can barely THINK —

Ben pries himself off, his dark hair messed over his face as he unbuttons his pants to give himself some relief. Rey reaches over to cup his cock, gauges with the heel of her palm. He memorizes the way her lips make a little ring when she pales and says,

"Oh…"

(Like she's nervous about fitting it in. Like something out of a pathetic dream.)

Ben grins and scoots down the bed, striping his tongue down her body and nipping her skin. He massages her arms, pinches her waist, bites her scarred kneecap. Slides lower until he clambers off the edge, his bare feet thumping softly on the floor. He comes to a stand, staring at her laid out and presenting herself for whatever he suggests next. Her eyes are lit expectantly, flustered by him just gawking at her uselessly.

_Don't be stupid._

The house's silence is almost eerie, listening to them closely. The wind stills. The rain stops. The pause grows too long.

But somehow she's still here. Their bond remains linked.

"Ben, are you —"

**No.** He's not going to fuck this up again.

He lunges to grab her calves, she gasps when he yanks her to the foot of the bed. He pushes her legs apart, his own limbs wobbling from recognizing her smell all over again. Her cunt is little and cute and flushed, just like the rest of her. Pinched and glossy from her arousal, her clit already swollen and peeking from its hood. She tightens up under his gaze to invite his entry, takes a deep breath and murmurs,

"Please…"

_No fucking way…_

Ben pushes two fingers in, shuddering against the energy phasing through his hand. She clasps hard, soaking down his knuckles and wincing heatedly. The feedback heightens how wet and tight she is — present and vivid, but not entirely there. He pumps her slowly, spreads his fingers to see her shape to his intrusion. Comes up to lean over her, slipping deeper and asking again,

"You like that?"

She nods, struggling to maintain her composure as she feels the same static inside her cunt. He smudges her nub with his thumb and gets excited hearing her say his name,

"Ben…"

Her eyes squeeze shut and she whimpers when he crowds a third finger in. He watches her face intently, reeling from how she shows him her body and desire so openly. Rey bites her cheek and her thighs start to shake, tilting her hips to rock back against his entry. He twists his wrist, smears her clit again, and admires how she reacts to him so dramatically. He cages her to his bed with her urgency, sees her building fast and harsh like the reverberation is too much already. His mind races thinking about how it'd feel on his cock, keeps casting away the impulse every time it returns. Rey won't last long like this anyway — messy and drenched and crumpling the sheets — under his command and writhing from his touch —

…The only thing alive but him in this old lonely house. He increases his pace, thrusting roughly and curling his fingertips. Clutches one knee to hold her open when her hips jerk. He spots a tear streak her reddened cheek. He wants to dream about her noises, hear his name echo in the empty hallways. Dips closer to make sure she catches every beat as he urges,

"Come real good and loud for me…"

She likes that. Her glassy eyes open wide to meet his, her bitten lips parted in shock. Rey holds his gaze. Like seeing him captivated by her is something thrilling and strange. Loose hairs stick to the side of her face, shined and scrunched with her sweat. She squirms and pants, making her tits bounce and heave,

"Fuck, I'm so —"

She cries out when he exits suddenly, grabs her thighs and jerks her closer to the edge of the mattress. Lowers to hook her knees over his shoulders and presses her cunt to his face. It tastes thicker and sweeter than it smells. He licks and flits his tongue inside to warm his buds with the feedback shorting through her. Slides his palms under her ass to fix her in place as she trembles and squeaks,

"I'm so close —"

He flattens his tongue up her seam, bumps along her clit with the bridge of his nose. She claps her thighs to his ears and muffles her heavy moans. He grabs her ass hard to dig his nails into her tender skin. Slides a hand out to plug her cunt with three fingers and smears his glazed lips over her nub. He puckers and sucks it lightly, stiffens his tongue to graze circles as he pumps her opening.

Her cunt wrings his fingers with a gentle flare of energy. Her clit bulbs with an amplified sensitivity. Rey whines,

"I'm gonna come so hard for you —"

_Fuck —_

Her legs tense on his shoulders. She scoots to rut on his face, sits up slightly with her abs crunched tight to clasp his body with her limbs. All of her winds in and down, writhing from his contact and calling out,

"Ben, I'm —"

Rey groans and pulls his hair, her knees falling open just enough for him to hear. Her cunt pulses and leaks steadily, her thighs shuddering and squirming as she strangles out some sounds. The mattress-springs squeak innocently below her rocking hips. The bed skids on the floor when Ben throws his weight into grinding his cock on the edge. He crooks his fingertips and kisses her clit, briefly loses his connection to everything but that way she says his name:

"Ben…"

Her cunt gets sloppy when she comes, clenches to keep him straining it wide as she slumps in completion. She scratches his scalp and sighs, collapses onto the blankets and relaxes her legs. He runs his nose and mouth into & over her to taste her mess and revel in his victory. Her skin is soft and beats with that soothing electricity as she comes down, radiating through his mouth and cheeks. His cock is primed and rigid. His heart pounds wildly against his ribs. He slinks out from her knees, pushes his hips between them to lean down and study her face.

He hovers above her lips. She closes her eyes and smiles sheepishly. And Ben can't tell if she wants him or just their connection's sensations, but it doesn't really matter…

The longer she wants him around, the less time he spends spiraling in this room alone. Maybe if he gets her off enough he can even convince her to stay. She seems so real that he can feel her breath against his neck. This can't be all bad — if they have the other for company — to explore this strange gift and maintain their sanity —

Rey exhales thinly, "That was crazy."

He kisses her so she can taste herself on his mouth, traces his lips on her jawbone and speaks into her hair,

"You came so _good_ for me, Rey."

She agrees, "Y- Yeah…"

"Really hard and loud." There's a beat. "Just like I said."

She holds her breath for a second. Relaxes beneath his frame, briefly carried into her own thoughts. The silence in his room is skewed and shifted. Overly aware that they've crossed a line they can't take back: the knowledge found in this unintended discovery — this bizarre treasure that maybe is better left unexplained —

Ben hopes he can still smell her on the sheets after she eventually fades into another dream like ocean waves. He climbs onto the bed, lies on his side to hug her close to his chest. Feathers her hair with his nose, rolls his pelvis against her hips.

"What the fuck is happening…" she whispers, so quietly that Ben is certain she didn't mean to say it aloud.

He pretends he didn't hear. He doesn't know either. Pretends that this embrace they share in their bond is all that matters.

Is all that exists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know a whole lot about octopus. Check out [Smithsonian Magazine](https://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/ten-curious-facts-about-octopuses-7625828/), this article from [The Florida Times-Union](https://www.jacksonville.com/news/20160814/unlocking-the-mysteries-of-the-octopus), [National Geographic](https://www.nationalgeographic.com/animals/invertebrates/c/common-octopus/), and the [The MarineBio Conservation Society](https://marinebio.org/species/common-octopuses/octopus-vulgaris/) for some cool fun facts. CT and NY's penal code are publicly available online as well 😅
> 
> Thank you for reading and for joining me on this drafting experiment adventure. Hope you are enjoying so far, now moving along to Act II 🙂 Still estimate chapter count to be 15-20 — closer to 20, really. Big thank you again to [SaveTheSpaceWhales](https://archiveofourown.org/users/awishman) and [weddersins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weddersins) for beta reading and for your friendship 😭❤
> 
> Find me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/theselittlefics) xoxo


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> longer between updates than expected, had a lot going on IRL. excited to share this next chapter and to get back into the swing of things.
> 
> added the "praise kink" tag. enjoy 😇

Rey watches the ceiling fan as she comes down, listens to it creak between her shuddering breaths. The sky is purpled gray through the window, the sun setting while she was… preoccupied. The nightstand lamp's light seems dusty in her semi-darkened bedroom. The shadows too tall on the walls. Her clothes like they belong to someone else, crumpled in a pile on the floor. 

Ben lies on his side with his nose in her hair, his lips by her ear. Draping an arm across her middle to hold her close to his chest. His heart thumps against her, he pins her thigh with one of his knees. A pair of motorcycles zip by outside, their engines fading into silence like a long yawn.

Rey wonders if he can hear it, but she doesn't ask. The quiet in her apartment is too heavy for her to speak.

A few minutes have passed already. Half her bared skin kindles against his body heat; the other prickles with goosebumps in the crisp air conditioning. Ben slides his palm up her stippled forearm and murmurs,

"Are you cold?"

She isn't sure why she waits a beat. "A little."

He kneads her shoulder. "Thought it was warm there?"

She can't tell if he's joking. Huffs and turns with a playful glare. "You're trapping the blanket."

Ben sits up, bouncing the mattress as he climbs down carefully. "Right. Sorry."

He seems oddly nervous, despite keeping his voice mostly even. She reads it in his hurried glance over her naked body, how he meets her eyes when she notices. Expects that it should feel leering with him towering over her bed in her tiny room, shadowed from blocking part of her lamp. But his gaze is softened by something familiar that makes his stature and manner less intimidating. Aside from physical attraction, the involuntary connection, the unideal backstory —

_He's just as lonely as she is._

Rey swears she hears it in the way he asks if she's okay. Furrows his brow when he offers to leave. Concentrates on her words. Stares at her figure like a priceless discovery — 

Tells her she's not alone.

Probably assuming too much. She gathers her comforter from the foot of the bed, brings it up to her neck. Sees Ben wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Smearing the last of her wetness off his lips.

"My turn to tell you," she says.

"Tell me what?"

She smirks from her burrow. "Don't be sorry."

A hint of a smile lifts his gloomy mien. "Okay."

He crawls onto the bed, untucks the blanket and throws it aside. Massages her shoulders as he guides her onto her back, bends to peck her cheek and pulls away,

"I won't," he adds.

Ben kisses her again. An energy spools from his palms into her skin, into her mouth & down her throat like a draught. She probably should find it more disturbing than calming, their connection's threads lightly vibrating against one another. Gently weaving through every stitch where they touch. The immediacy has worn down, her nerves growing more accustomed to the feedback.

Even if the novelty has not. He moves down her neck, trails her collarbone. Her breath hitches when he nips her bruise and a warmth accompanies the quick sting. She scratches his head when he lowers to her tits. A chill runs down her arms with her torso above the covers,

"Just gonna… make me cold, huh?" she asks.

He whispers against her sternum. "I wouldn't dream of it."

The wording gives her pause, halts her scattered thoughts. She knows the reaction stutters through his clothes, muting tiny patches on & off like blips of interference. Stabilizes and strengthens on direct contact, touched by a… vitality that seems to encourage her to chase it more.

And Rey knows it can't be coincidence that Ben recited exactly what she remembered from her dream, from what she believed was unconscious fantasy. The brief musing sours the memory with a disquieting feeling — 

But not enough to spoil the rest. Her cunt is still heated and messy from her arousal, the tops of her inner thighs slicked from release. She can't remember the last time she came that hard. Her sounds weren't all exaggeration. Not just to appease that flip in her stomach that nudged her to please him. To follow his lead, to keep him impressed. Intrigued. To keep admiring her like he's stunned she's there —

Ben flattens his tongue across her nipples, fits them neatly in his mouth. She squirms when he uses his teeth

_Later._

and sighs his name, figuring he likes to hear it. "Ben…"

She closes her eyes, shuts out her bedroom to heighten her awareness of his contact and sinks into the darkness. Lets it roll her hips against him gently as he licks her tits and thrums that gentle static between her ribs.

Her instinct reminds her to be scared of everything that's happening, but his embrace is oddly comforting. Even though it probably shouldn't be. Ben disconnects, grazes his lips back up her torso to kiss her neck,

"Warmer now?"

She shivers hearing him next to her ear, shifting to coast along his clothes. His cock pokes her stomach, his unzipped jeans slung below his pelvis and tented briefs. He covers her mouth with his before she can answer, cages her in with his elbows & knees. Rey bites his lip, runs her stubby nails over the buttons of his cotton shirt. Wriggles along his hand when he snakes it between them to adjust his tip. He pulls away with an apology,

"Sorry, I shouldn't —"

"Shouldn't what?" she asks, opening her eyes to meet his.

The bedroom is dimmed by the later hour, Ben's broad frame blocking most of it from her view. Thousand miles north of here and trapping her with his weight. He tenses his jaw puzzling his response, dazed from the sensation through his clothes — still reeling from observing its effect on her. Rey tells herself she has some justification, as she raises her shaking hands to his chest. That they're charting experimental results. Finding more details to bring them nearer to stopping whatever this is.

She flattens her palms against his torso, down his abs to unfasten the lowest button on his shirt. Ben looks down to watch her intently, dark hair obscuring most of his face. His muscles tighten as she coasts upward, flinching from the static brushing his nerves. She undoes the second. Pauses briefly before going up to the third.

"It's… just us here, right?" she suggests, repeating what he said to her before.

Rey completes her path quickly, fumbling on the last button with a wry smile. His shirt flops open like a curtain. Ben shudders when she scratches down his pecs, inhales sharply when she digs her nails deeper to leave light pink stripes on his chest. The warmth streaming into her fingers increases some degrees.

"You d- don't have to think about it right now," Rey attempts, mimicking him again —

(And she knows it's rash to be swept by her curiosity… to get carried away into feeling so seen.)

Ben nods, still studying her motions. She hooks into the waist of his jeans. Tries to be sultry shrugging them down, but bunches them around his massive thighs instead. Consciously looks away from his cock pointing between them as Ben kneels up, dropping her hands back to her sides.

"Okay," he says.

Ben stops another second to peer at her spit-shined tits, looming over her laid out body.

Her cheeks flush again.

He climbs off her, folding his long limbs awkwardly to sit at the edge of the bed. Rey bites her cheek watching him hike down his own pants and briefs. Hears fabric gather out of view but no sound when he kicks his clothes aside. He shucks off his button-down and tosses it, the shirt phasing to disappear as it leaves his touch.

Ben flops onto his back. Rey scoots aside instinctively, leaving a gap between them on the bed —

_Oh…_

His cock is big and sturdy like the rest of him, hard and perpendicular to his flat body. The skin is tannish pink like the prominent scar on his side. He presses his cheek to her pillow to study her closely, darts his tongue to wet his lips. Circles his large hand around his length. Pulls at the tip a couple times focusing on her cunt, starts rubbing himself when he catches her eyes.

Her pulse races. Rey holds her breath. Hears a car starting in one of the ports beneath the floor. The air conditioner whirrs to idle. Ben goes faster. The bed creaks when he shifts his hips. 

All the little noises seem louder in her ears, reminding her everything goes on as normal even with her room hanging in a dreamy blur. Rey inches next to him, parts her thighs to cool her entrance. Her leg touches his side and he flinches again, recoiling from the immediacy of the reaction on his bare skin. Ben pauses his hand to regain his bearings, sending a beat of silence through the apartment.

Determination narrows his gaze as she lies on her side. Rey presses her body on his with her cheek on his shoulder, mirroring his earlier pose. She walks her fingers down his torso playfully, halts at his navel to skim up with her nails. He inhales sharply, changes his grip on his base. Tugs himself a couple times, adjusts his arm to cradle Rey at her waist.

He rests his chin on her head and smells her hair. She squirms into the crook of his elbow, flattens her palm on his sternum to feel his thudding heart. The reverberations through the connection flare in time with its beat. Rey coasts her hand lower, stuttering over his muscles' dips & planes. The fluttering in her stomach returns seeing him twitch and respond — concentrating on her so completely —

"Crazy, right?" she murmurs.

He nods, clutches her tighter and strokes himself eagerly. Rey inches down his body, watching him openly. Thinks about the reaction far up inside her, how his fingers warmed and eased her cunt to spread the echo into her hips. How his cock would fill her thick and deep. How she'd sense every movement when he holds her in place. And she likes knowing that he thinks about it too, isn't sure if she's supposed to feel invasive or guilty for gawking at Ben jerking off. For tossing her clothes aside and throwing herself at him, or for —

_Later._

Rey lies on his chest, traces the crease v-ing to his pelvis. Tangles the patch of wiry hairs at his base, bumping her fingers against the shaft. Ben halts his fist, his size looking impressive in his grip. Rey lifts her head to catch his half-lidded gaze. His stare is still fervent, ignited by purpose & lust. Her insides twist and nudge her to be guided by that childish part of her that likes seeing him admire her… that wants to hear his approval again…

"Let me help you," she whispers.

He blinks. His hand darts away.

_Just like that._

Rey wraps her fingers delicately around his cock, smudges the top with her thumb. Wipes her palm over to stripe it with his pre-come before sliding down his length. His nerves shock to awareness, his body tensing hard when she knuckles the edge of his tip.

"Fuck," he grunts. "Rey —"

She senses the reaction along his sensitive skin, twitching in her hand and threading into her wrist. She recircles a little tighter, increases her pace. The angle is awkward but the perspective makes him look huge in her hand. He rolls his hips to heighten the friction, his breaths growing uneven and filling her empty room.

Her words shake. "Y- You like that?"

"Fuck yes," he sputters.

Rey sits up, peeks up to see his expression drain from losing the feedback on his middle. She stalls her hand and crawls lower, resituating her knees on the bed. Reangles his cock and bends closer, widening her eyes with feigned innocence as she covers her teeth with her lips —

His stare darkens with anticipation above a thin wolfish grin.

_He probably fucks just as intensely too._

Rey hesitates a second to wet her throat. One of his hands grabs his own thigh. The other skims up her back to splay between her shoulderblades. The warmth blossoms and seeps into her spine, urging her to keep going. She listens. Swipes her tongue over the head, skims down the underside of his shaft. Licks back up and his hand raises to pinch behind her neck, to knead it with his palm.

"Rey…"

Her mouth rings to slide the tip inside, moves for Ben to see it bump her cheek. He inhales sharply, snaking higher to grab her buns. She tilts her head and relaxes her throat, accepting each inch slowly for him to watch the scene. She salivates heavily, soaking down his length ahead of her lips. Her stomach churns from the intrusion and Rey concentrates on suppressing the instinctual heave. She stiffens her lips to taut her circle and drag over every ridge as she comes back up, coughing for air at the top. Smears her spit all over his cock with her hand and splits her fingers to prop his shaft before swallowing him again.

"Fuck, that…"

Rey knows some of what he's feeling, her hollowed cheeks tingling with a static that dulls the taste. He reaffirms his hold to direct her head and improve his view. She flicks her tongue to drum the energy's resonance when she glides down, craving the sound of him moaning her name again —

His hips jerk in response, shoving his tip deep to prod the back of her throat. Rey's body lurches to attention with a wet strangled sound, knocking all the air from her lungs. Ben bunches her hair roughly to keep her still, yanking her scalp and bottoming out with another groan. Her throat pulses around his width as she gags, limbs shaking as her chest stings.

Ben relinquishes his hold and she kneels up to gasp, eyes stinging with tears. Her tits heave as she pants, her heart races as he scratches her back reassuringly. She sniffles and wipes her mouth, only pausing a couple seconds before resuming. Rey shortens her path, only a little more than halfway to let her stomach settle and steady her breathing.

"You're taking me so good," Ben says, massaging her shoulder. "Look so pretty choking on my cock."

Something about the way he says it makes her cunt clench, pools a tension between her legs. She dips lower when he cups her head again, loosening wisps & clumps of hair from their ties. Rey glances up to Ben's flushed face, sees his eyes squeezed shut and his lips parting to bare his gritted teeth. She lowers and lets the echo smooth her throat, their connection spiking to a higher frequency.

Rey can tell he's getting close. His cock shifts in her jaw. His sounds seem raw & heady, his legs and stomach tensing. Rey looks away, guides herself down his last inches to bottom out once more. Bobs her throat and puckers her lips at his base.

"F- Fuck," he stutters, already losing his cool. "That feels —"

_Otherworldly. Too good to be true. Too good to trust._

She felt it all before. Even rocks her hips, longing for it to flood her full again already. Ben slides up to bow her head and shove her a touch deeper…

He bucks hard into her mouth, turning her stomach and cinching her throat. She loses her breath before he pokes her reflex, too startled to gag. Her ears ring & lungs burn, his cock throbbing to give warning shortly before his words —

"Gonna make me come so hard fucking your pretty little face —"

And he does, springing his hand away. Rey fists his length and covers his tip, spooning her tongue as he spills heavily. The taste and consistency is unaltered, the normalcy more surprising than anything. Some drips from the corner of her mouth, glosses the curly hairs between his legs. He rolls to keep hitting her throat and babbles,

"So fucking good for me —"

She laps the last drops and puffs her cheek, disconnecting to see Ben's stunned expression. Crawls up the bed to straddle his stomach and heat her cunt, pinning his torso with her knees. His chest rises to lift her tiny frame, hands shaking as they raise to clutch her waist. Her heart pounds with anticipation, leaning closer without breaking his gaze. She cups her own chin as her tastebuds start to sour —

"T- That was…"

— And opens wide to show him his come in her mouth, demonstrating how it pools on her tongue instead of fading away. His breath catches, eyes softening to memorize every line of her naked body crouching forward. Totally captivated by her show. He shifts his jaw, adam's apple bobbing as he asks,

"Swallow that nicely for me, Rey?"

She nods, feels another drop streaking and catches it in her palm. Purses her lips and gulps obediently, wipes her hand on her leg.

They watch one another as silence settles. Rey blushes deeply picturing her disheveled hair, dirty chin, and gangly frame. But Ben studies her almost wondrously, dumbfounded by her sitting on him like she was dropped there from a dream. He taps her waist, exhaling

"…Good girl."

so quietly that Rey doesn't know if it was meant to be heard. Wonders if Ben felt her cunt tighten on his stomach, his abs unconsciously tensing as if in response.

_Fuck —_

He reaches up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear and clears his throat.

"That was amazing," he attempts. "You're…"

He traces a line down her neck, bruised shoulder, collarbone, draws a circle around her pebbled nipple before going to her navel. Pets the hair between her legs.

"…You're something else."

Rey frowns at his hand, regretting that she didn't think to trim when she shaved her legs yesterday. He rests it on her thigh, smirks when he polishes her skin with his seed.

"This," she corrects hesitantly. "_This_ is something else, that wasn't all me —"

"No." His tone makes it clear there's no room for protest. "You're something else."

Rey doesn't know how to respond. Ben clasps her middle a little tighter, rubs her with his thumbs. Her prior musings whip to the forefront again, needling her unease and shame. He probably thinks she's desperate to feel noticed, loose after her brazen display — after grinding on his leg right after kissing him, unzipping her shorts the moment he touched her cunt, making noise at his behest, sucking off a near-stranger in her bed —

The energy phases through his fingers to her hipbones, threads down her skin like a gentle reassurance. She hurries to justify nonetheless, forcing a half-smile to pose it as wit,

"Another mechanics test. Bodily fluids."

He blinks. "Right."

"They… pass through the connection."

"That they do." He licks his thumb and wipes her chin.

That fluttering returns. "Do you…" She spots her mascara smudged across one of her pillowcases. "…see my blanket? Or —"

"— Not right now. Like you said."

"Yeah," she mumbles. "R- Right."

"But I don't see your bedding." Ben furrows his brows, splays his hands on her thighs, maintaining contact and kindling the warmth. "Just mine. Just you. In my old room."

Like she might fade at any moment. Rey leans in to blow a lock of his hair away too. "Different room for both of us this time."

"…Yeah." Ben slides his hands back to squeeze her ass. "Prefer you in this one though."

Rey rolls her eyes, raises one finger and boops his prominent nose. "You're not too bad yourself."

"Depends on the circumstances."

He loses his train of thought, appears to be distracted by something outside her window. Could be his wall or a closet for all she knows. Being here with Ben is more comfortable than she expected, in spite of the changing physical (& metaphysical) boundaries between them. That foreboding shadowing her these past few days seems distant with the connection humming pleasantly.

Maybe even encouragingly. The observation gives her pause.

Something occurs to Ben, changing his expressive face. He smacks one of her cheeks lightly to signal her to move, grabs her arms to roll her over before giving her a chance. She gasps playfully,

"Hey —"

Rey squirms when he pins her wrists by her ears. He kisses her again, lingering for some seconds as she blushes and smiles faintly against his lips. He pulls away, all their bare skin still feeling so so so **close** — 

"That was amazing," he says again. "Really."

"Thanks… Y- You too."

He lets go and climbs off, bouncing the mattress like he's actually there. Rey snatches the tangled blanket from her feet to wrap herself again, shivering as goosebumps resurface on her limbs. Ben checks something on her dresser, phased through a corner like his own is positioned a few inches aside. Still nude, his pale chest & thighs marked with pink scratches and deeper half-moons from Rey's nails. Totally oblivious to her movements when she scoots down the bed.

Rey asks, "Is there —"

"Oh —"

Ben glances back. The dim lamplight softens his angular features and rough lines in the mostly-dark apartment. 

"— I wasn't sure if… It's nothing."

Not very convincing. "What's nothing?"

"If I had this box open before." He's not touching it for Rey to see. "It's nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I just…" Ben meets her eyes briefly, looks down at his hands. "I should go —" He points towards the door. "Wash up. I'll be right back."

He hurries out and Rey realizes just too late, calling out right as he leaves her sight,

"Wait, are you wearing…"

The ring. She knows he's not. His footsteps drop to a sudden silence. Rey leaps from the bed and follows into the living room — 

He's already gone. She crosses her arms, stares at the open door to her empty bathroom. Stands naked in the dark for some minutes, listening for signs that he will reappear. A passing car horn outside finally stirs her to move.

Rey swallows hard, rubbing her arms as a chill runs through her — from both the temperature and everything changing so rapidly. Somehow a brief conversation turned into _all this_ in only a few days. She should be wary of that sense of rightness in their connection, concerned by the temporary peace being a _distraction_ from the rest. Rey finds clean underwear and a long t-shirt, tells herself that Ben was carried away by the same feeling. That's why he left so casually and abruptly — her presence felt real enough to forget the limitations and he figured she'd be there when he returned…

_Making excuses already._ Wanting to rationalize acting on her desires so quickly. Rey groans and flops onto her back, staring at the ceiling of her room with her feet dangling off the bed. She holds a pillow over her face, can smell Ben on the fabric. Realizes she has no way of contacting him until he randomly appears.

Rey throws the pillow aside with a sigh. Too early to sleep. She orders delivery online, pulls on a pair of old jeans with frayed bottoms. Spends most of her evening on the couch, half-hoping for Ben to rematerialize and half-avoiding the evidence of his visit in her room. Keeps repositioning how she sits, unable to settle and regain her bearings.

She startles and nearly trips over the ottoman when a neighbor slams their front door. Any tension relieved from getting off is long gone, replaced by that same sense of observation lingering her spine. Pacing between the bathroom & kitchenette calms her nerves, but provides no guidance on what _to do —_

Shorter middle shift at the bar tomorrow, before a few long days in a row. Rey boils water for chamomile tea, waiting at the counter awkwardly and playing with her phone.

(No new messages.)

Thinks about how Ben listened closely when she was upset. How she was flustered by his gaze. How he paled in recognition when she talked about the dead fish speaking on the shore —

Rey spots her baseball bat propped by the closet. Her stomach drops with the memory of chasing Ben with it not long ago.

The kettle whistles with steam.

She texts Finn before losing her nerve:

_brunch tomorrow?_

Sets the phone down and tears open a single-serving teabag. The paper crumbles, the leaves dust beneath her feet on the tiles. Rey clicks her tongue, checks the date on the box. The second bag is fine. She leaves it to steep, picks up the tiny pile of tea ash and hears a notification ping overhead.

Almost bumps the counter leaping up to read his response:

_yeah definitely_

They agree to meet early before work at a spot they've visited several times before. Rey nods as she sends her confirmation, exhaling slowly and convincing herself this is the next best step. She plugs the phone away, extinguishes the lights in the living room, and sets her tea by the nightstand lamp. The bedsprings squeak when she slumps to lie down on her back. Ben's scent lingers on her sheets and sparks that rush she felt when he bid her with the same words from her dream…

She strips off her jeans and turns on her side. Shuts her eyes as they sting with tears again, wrapping her blanket tight to pretend someone is close — like she did turned away from her roommates in shared rooms as a little kid. The smell of Ben's hair on her pillow anchors her body as she drifts asleep, the walls spinning in a drowsy haze.

_This is too much._ She can't keep it to herself anymore.

But Rey has a restful dreamless sleep. Wakes up in the morning with her lamp burnt out and tea gone cold.

✖❌✖❌

Ben slams the door against the wall when he returns to his room and Rey is gone. The knob lands with a loud crack, punching a tiny hole. His first instinct is to throw his grandfather's box out the window to see the wood splinter over the asphalt driveway — to blame the original source of all this upheaval instead of his own disorganized thoughts.

He sits on the end of the bed, covers his face with his hands and evens his breaths. Focuses on the low swell of crickets outside and his pulse. The room is the same when it comes back into view, half-lit and empty. His new shirt and tie hang on the closet. The wooden box is still open, the name scrawled inside the lid displayed innocently. The towering trees bordering the yard make the hour seem later than it is. Ben tunes his ears to the old house's little creaks & clanks, hoping to distinguish footsteps in the stretches of silence in between.

He knows it's pointless but waits several more minutes anyway. Itches the marks Rey left on his thighs, stands to examine his chest in the mirror. Pink stripes trail down his sternum to his stomach, mostly faded but unmistakably hers. He scratches the one by his heart, turns away to avoid meeting his own gaze too long.

Ben pulls back on his briefs but doesn't bother with the rest, dumbfounded by the proof of Rey's presence all over the room. Her sweat flowers the air with a sweet stale smell, strongly perfumes his sheets. The blanket is tangled at the foot of the bed, the quilt on the floor. Her mascara still smudges one of the pillows like coal. He lies down and props it beneath his cheek, staring at the open box on the dresser —

_She's real._

And shuts his eyes again, replaying every second over and over before he loses the memory — Seeing her kneeling over his hips with tear-streaked cheeks, coughing and cringing with her head eclipsed by his hand. Watching her tits sway as she bent lower to swallow his cock, as she angled to pocket the tip in her throat. And the way she flushed and squirmed when he rambled aloud, nodded meekly when he coaxed her along.

Had some minutes to pretend he has some control over their situation. Or his own. Or anything at all.

It's early but his body sinks into the bed, heavy with sleep. He shuts off the lamp, gathers the blankets to hold them close. The walls melt into a dream, overflow the open box with grayed paint that pours steadily onto the floor. The liquid rises to make an ocean, unlatching the mattress from the bedframe like a boat. The room darkens to a night sky muddled by storm clouds…

…but the tide rolls in time with the connection's frequency, reforms the bundle in his arms into a solid figure with soft hair and its face turned away.

_Rey?_

Her scent is salted by a gentle wind that leaves him still and calm. Her back rises and falls against his chest. A lantern bobs on the horizon, blinking on & off in regular intervals. Growing brighter and floating up as the waves guide him nearer to the source. A black strip of land rises beneath it, followed by a brick tower composed of unfocused lines. Too vague to discern any color or real shape.

_Ben?_

He tries to sit up but cannot move. The light buds larger and sharpens behind a filtered lens. Its halo stretches to spin in time with the blinking pattern, the cone illuminating endless miles of blank ocean around the island's shore. The mattress drifts closer and he recalls the compass mosaic at the bottom of the spiral stairs — looking up when he heard his name and spinning around to see a lighthouse from an arched door.

The same one. Has to be.

_Ben…? Is that you?_

He hooks his arm around her, fingers drumming her ribs as she wanes into the fabric. Opens his mouth to speak before he cinches tighter and she vanishes into a cloud of dust and smoke —

And Ben wakes in his dreary room, painted by the last shadows before dawn. He sits up, rubbing his eyes as birds chirp outside. Morning sun glows the treetops with that thin touch of dirty gold. His skin is clammy, itches with new scabs. All the blankets are crumpled beside him, damp in several spots like he clung to them throughout the night in a cold sweat. He checks the pillows and all the cases are clean, mascara no longer there.

Ben yawns and itches his neck. Some hours to go before the alarm. He idly notes all the furniture, still groggy and only semi-aware —

The box is closed.

Ben freezes. His nerves tense with a nauseating sense of dread.

His fingers crease the sheets. No point in delaying. He plucks yesterday's clothes from the floor and dresses in the hall.

The clock seems to tick louder, sneering at his fright. Ben glances back into the bedroom, half-expecting one of the shadows to jump out and move. He forgot to close the house before falling asleep. That same light flickers in the foyer. He reminds himself to change it later when he shuts it at the bottom of the stairs. Circles to look into every vacant room, extinguishing electric lamps like an aimless ghost.

All as he left it. No sign of Rey at all.

Ben forgets his shoes walking out to the punching bag in the shed. Wastes the time before his alarm forgetting that he exists. His limbs burn and ache when he's finished, slowing his pace through the yard and into the backdoor. He trudges to the kitchen for a glass of water, his car keys & sunglasses on the island waiting to go. The old coupons curl and wilt on their thumbtacks. Sliding glass door to the patio is definitely locked. The space is bland and hollow, even lonelier now that he remembers seeing Rey every time he's there. He loops around the house once more, folding & refolding a clean towel to busy his hands. Pokes his head in every room (even the basement) just _one more time_ —

His phone alarm chimes in another part of the house, the muffled echo drawing Ben into the den. The device is face-down on the coffee table, the vibration buzzing it towards the edge. His stomach turns again reading the banner's text before dismissing the notification from the screen:

**MEETING**

He can't be late.

A cold shower shocks him to a higher gear. He mimics his usual pre-shift routine to blunt any sense of unnecessary ceremony. Adds some product to his wet hair. Finds his navy slacks and sportcoat in the back of the closet, unworn since the funeral. Buttons on the new shirt. Watches a video to knot his tie, flings it onto the dresser in frustration when it takes too long. Recalls his father standing behind him in the same mirror to show him nearly two decades ago.

Ben locates all the items he set out the day before: leather binder, clipboard, folder of letters, account printouts, and three extra ballpoint pens. He sits on the sofa, packaging it all together with his knees bumping the table. Briefly pictures Rey planted in between, wide glassy eyes meeting his as she rings her lips. The image returns out in the car, when he pushes the seat back to rummage through his pockets for the keys.

One person left who looks at him like that. Like he isn't some listless wraith.

It does offer some consolation as he drives the same winding roads through his snowglobe-perfect childhood town. As he takes the circuitous routes through the trees until they clear into strip malls and parking lots and nondescript office buildings. As he leaves his sunglasses on the passenger seat and checks his hair one last time in the rearview mirror. As the automatic lock latches and announces itself with a beep.

Ben finds it ironic that the sunny skies are nearly cloudless, signalling an optimism that he can neither feel or see. The bank's commercial branch hub is unassuming, a long three-story block of textured cement with a poorly-kerned logo sign. A bell rings in the modest lobby when he enters. The receptionist grins broadly above her Disney souvenir bolo tie. The interiors were remodeled recently, all frosted glass and metal fixtures with an unnecessary water feature in the waiting area in the back of the hall.

"Solo, conference room three," the young woman instructs with too much cheer. "You can head right in."

She hands him a visitor sticker that he fixes to the bottom of his jacket, points to the doorways flanking the fountain with a forced grin. His dress shoes clap loudly against the fake marble tiles as he marches towards his destination. He spots a man and a woman in charcoal suits with briefcases shuffle in ahead of him, hunched like reapers in a tightly-formed line. He hesitates halfway down the hall, waits for them to disappear inside to brace himself this final time before he follows…

…The conference table is an oversized particle board oval surrounded with too many leather swivel chairs. Ben shakes everyone's hands, exaggerates his own grip. The man wears glasses, invites him to take a seat. Ben rolls away the chair beside him to sidle into it and give his elbows some more room. Briefcases click open and packets crinkle onto the table. No one approaches the white board. A stock photo screensaver cycles on an idle TV screen. The woman says,

"So, let's begin."

And once Ben crosses the event horizon, the rest passes in an almost literal fog of numbers and stern expressions. They trade papers and forms. The man shakes his head and clicks his tongue. Ben hears himself speaking but can't remember his words, only the different ways each suit nods their head with false interest. And how he nods back as an automatic response. A patch of cumulus clouds cover the sun in the long window overlooking a parking lot and murky stream. His joke falls flat and shadows dim the walls, ushering a thick silence that sucks all the air from the room.

The woman straightens her shoulders, quirks one of her severe penciled brows as she leans in and lowers her tone,

"Mr. Solo, this just isn't feasible."

She slides a manila folder across the table. Ben opens it to find a stapled packet and signature lines beneath huge blocks of teeny tiny text. The word _foreclosure_ catches his eye. Doesn't look up when she adds,

"Hate having to do this too."

"Right," he mumbles.

The man clears his throat. "Need those back by end of next week."

"Yeah —"

Ben's hands shake as he collects his papers, slowing his movements as the suits stand to exit. Neither of them bid farewell. Even sidestep passing by him like he might bite. He hears them muttering by the elevator, waits for them to leave before letting out his breath.

_He's completely fucked —_

But despite the worst fear being realized, nothing has changed. The clouds pass and sunlight brightens the conference room again. His feet work, carry his long strides down the hall. He waves his hand limply hearing

"Have a great day!"

and the bell chimes as he leaves. He inhales deeply, trying to fill the hollow sensation widening in his chest and plunging to his knees. Directs himself to the car, leaving his papers and wandering into a pharmacy on the next lot. Stops at a makeup display mirror to finger-comb his hair, no longer fazed by the tired lines under his eyes. He strolls mostly aimlessly, going down every aisle without looking at any of the shelves. He grabs a six-pack of beer from the fridge before circling back the same way again.

"Can I help you?" one of the pharmacists asks as he passes their counter a second time.

"Uh, no, I…"

Ben spots a rack of condoms nearby, has no idea if he has any around anymore. Hopes he looks casual taking a box and hurrying away to the front. He grunts handing his ID and bills to the cashier, fidgeting with the keyfob in his pocket as his stomach churns restlessly.

And this time the sun's angle washes out the lot when he returns outside, searing his vision and spiking his nausea. His legs stagger to the car, he sets the beer in the backseat and slumps against the door as he slams it closed. His skin freezes and mouth waters, he stoops forward about to hurl —

**No.** Not here. Not now.

— Ben collapses into the driver's seat and rests his forehead on the steering wheel. He can't bear the thought of passing the diner on his way to the house. Still remembers the old sign. Chewie winking when he went into storage for handfuls of chocolate chips as a kid. The day a pickup backed into the window while restriping the parking lot. The bus dropping him off up the road on Tuesdays & Thursdays in elementary school when his mother worked late.

Doesn't matter now. And all those years didn't matter to his father either.

Ben rolls down the window to cool off as he takes a longer route to the house, completes the drive even though he can't feel his body. Nearly trips over himself unlocking the front. Stumbles over the threshold and catches himself on the wall, struggling to support his own weight. He drags his hand along heading towards the kitchen, can tell already that Rey won't be there. The room is empty like he expects, everything too fucking quiet when he places the beer in the fridge.

The contents of his pockets clatter onto the counter. He pauses to listen for footsteps and swallows hard. Relieved to be alone.

_She won't see this._ Ben glares at his fingers as they curl into a fist —

First he storms into the den. He flips over the coffee table, rescattering papers all over the floor. Takes a casino souvenir ashtray from a shelf and throws it against the wall. The heavy frosted glass cracks unevenly, lands with a crunch. Ben steadies his breath, pivots to charge up the stairs, and barrels through the one shut door at the end of the hall.

He switches on the lights after months of being off.

His parents' old bedroom is totally barren, all the furniture sold long ago. The footprints from the dresser & bedframe are still visible on the carpet. The windowblinds are closed. The walk-in closet is cleaned out as well, all the shelves stripped. Only kept his grandfather's box, mother's engagement ring, and a handful of other things from there.

Almost like they never slept here at all. His father vanishing before dealing with any of the consequences himself. Leaving it behind for someone else to deal with instead. Smiling and laughing and _fucking around_ with so much behind his mother's back right until the end —

Ben might even be more angry than the night he left this house years ago.

(A part of him wishes he'd killed him instead.)

He smashes his fists through the drywall. Crosses the room to kick the open door to the walk-in, slamming it with his heel again until the hinges skew. Punches another hole on the next wall and shakes out his hands, barely feeling his fingers turning the lights back off.

Ben glances back a moment before leaving. The stillness is distant and strange. Some afternoon sun slats through the blinds.

"Fuck this…"

Saying that won't make it go away, but the syllables provide a little relief. More than seeing the holes he'll have to fix or thinking about the glass to clean up downstairs. He sighs, averting his gaze as he shuts the room once more.

The clock ticks from the landing.

At least when Rey reappears he can pretend their connection makes it all go away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading and for your feedback along the way. hope you've enjoyed so far and i'm looking forward to what comes next. can you believe TROS is so soon? 😱
> 
> thank you again to [SaveTheSpaceWhales](https://archiveofourown.org/users/awishman) and [weddersins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weddersins) for beta reading
> 
> you can find me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/theselittlefics) xoxo


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for so much for reading and for your feedback along the way 🙂 The posted chapter count may change, but probably not by much.
> 
> As for the "medium burn" tag... We're finally there 🔥 Right in time for TROS. Enjoy 😉❤

Rey arrives for brunch earlier than Finn, leans on the wall by the outdoor hostess stand fiddling with her phone. She pockets it and rolls up the sleeves of her work shirt, stands in a patch of shade beneath one of the canopies sweeping over the patio seating. Already humid at late morning with a thin breeze from the nearby shore. She spins around to shake her head when a server offers a mimosa, goes to wait on the sidewalk out front.

The day has been normal so far. Nothing strange when she puttered around the apartment that morning or got ready for her shift at the bar. No sensations of an eerie gaze at her back. She thought about Ben for a good part of it, puzzling whether his ring (or something else) could trigger him to appear. Doesn't have his phone number, like a more reasonable person probably would.

_Barely know the guy at all,_ she reminds herself, spotting Finn's Jeep pulling into the parking lot. Blames the supernatural link itself for feeling a… connection with Ben. They're bound to look for commonalities in such fraught circumstances. Or at least an excuse for acting on their shared attraction, for chasing that echoing touch through their bond.

Not that she plans to explain that bit. She shields her eyes with her hand, squinting in the bright light as she approaches Finn. He wears designer sunglasses and an affable smile, offers a small wave.

"Hey you," he greets. They walk in stride to the cafe. "Was just thinking about this place the other day, haven't been here in awhile."

"Yeah, I kinda want that banana french toast again," Rey comments, watching her feet. "Maybe something lighter though."

Finn whistles. "You? Something lighter? Sure you're feeling okay?"

Rey laughs halfheartedly, walks ahead of Finn to flag the hostess with two raised fingers. The woman acknowledges them with a nod, grabbing two menus and gesturing towards the patio.

"Anywhere you'd like," she calls.

Rey sweeps her hand. "After you, sir."

Finn smirks. "If you insist, ma'am."

He finds a round table with a wide umbrella in a quiet spot by a thicket of palm fronds. Sets his sunglasses on the table and pulls out both high-backed chairs.

"Care for something to drink?" the hostess asks, dropping a couple packets of silverware in napkined rolls.

"Oh, uh, bloody mary, please," Finn responds, taking his seat. "You want one too, right?"

"Coffee for me," Rey says, scooting closer to the table. "Thank you."

Rey raises her flat plastic menu to hide her face, noticing Finn glance over in her periphery. Nothing has changed since the last time they were here. Meticulously modeled & filtered food photos, nautical antique fixtures, and strings of hanging lanterns for nighttime lighting. Standard breakfast dishes for brunch, upcharged with high-grade ingredients and fancy plating. The words swim together until she peeks up hearing her name a second time.

"Rey?" Finn's voice is a little high. "Are you —"

"Yeah, just tired," she replies, setting down her menu. She busies her hands unrolling and resetting her silverware. "Weird sleeping lately."

Works both as an offhand remark and a potential opening. But Finn doesn't say anything, appears to be watching the tables behind Rey's shoulder when she lifts her eyes. He bites his cheek, searching for his words.

"Doubles?" he offers, referring to her shifts.

"No." She straightens her posture. He turns over to the back of his menu. "Crazy dreams."

Finn clears his throat, his gaze softening with the very note of _concern_ she imagined. Her stomach flips.

"Something you ate?" he deadpans.

"Nah."

"Weird like how?" He leans on his elbows to speak lower, though no one else can hear.

Rey crosses her arms, twisting the matter a little bit. She only remembers a few of the dreams she's had since Poe's party, unusually vivid without being frightening. Not like the one she had when they were younger, the kind that Finn suggests with his tone.

…But this is familiar ground to cross and eventually reform into a version resembling the truth.

Rey clears her throat. "The kind that stick with you the next day."

He frowns. "How long has it been now?"

Since the last one. "Not since the first week we moved down here —"

A waitress returns with their drinks and both of them sit back. The bloody mary is garnished with elaborately shaved celery sticks and a full slice of bacon. Finn plucks it from the oversized soft drink glass, takes a bite as Rey's coffee mug is filled from a fresh carafe that the server leaves on the table. They both order omelettes with toast and the waitress chirps,

"I'll put this right in, let me know if you need anything."

"Will do." Finn winks. "Thank you."

She walks away and neither of them speak for several seconds. The hostess seats another party nearby, an elderly couple with trembling voices that Rey recognizes from the early bird dinners at the bar. Finn stirs his drink, clouding the tomato juice with bits of pepper & spices.

"No french toast this time?" he attempts.

"In a cheesy mood." Rey scoots her chair again, chews her lip resettling in the seat. "How's it been at the, uh, office?"

Finn blinks. "Docks are fine. Finishing quarter's books. Poe cuts the number of river tours during the seasonal lull, has people doing grounds upkeep. Setting up stuff at the new location, yeah…"

Rey isn't sure how to answer. Another silence grows. Conversation used to come so naturally between them, even only several months ago. The gradual distancing became apparent as he spent more time with Rose. He used to pry into her obvious avoiding and Rey nearly always took the bait — a custom that she expects him to follow now.

But he doesn't. "Snap told me he played at your bar the other day."

Takes a moment to fall into place. Same night she walked on the beach with Kaydel. And saw the fish. "Yeah. Said you were a great guy."

He grins sheepishly. "Snap's a character. Poe met him doing, uh, sailboat racing or jetskiing, something like that." Sips his drink as Rey sugars her brew. "And how's it by you?"

"Hm?"

"At the bar." There's a beat. "And otherwise."

The miniature spoon clinks against her mug. "Okay. People want to drink during off-season too."

Rey brings the cup to her mouth, notices Finn studying her expression over the brim. He tilts his head. "You sure?"

She raises her eyebrows and he reiterates,

"…You sure you're okay?"

Rey shrugs. Adds another drip of milk to her coffee. "I'll be fine. Always am eventually."

"Look pretty tired —"

"Weird sleeping." She presses her lips to a line, already regretting that she said anything.

"Right." He taps the table. "Did you mean nightmares? When you said that before. Dreams that stick with you the next day."

Wasn't the part she wanted him to latch onto, trails off as she searches for a new description from what she rehearsed,

"Not really. More like…"

(Dreams that don't go away. That make her doubt rational boundaries and explanations, question her surroundings and the tiny gaps in her memories. Like a shift in her perception that fogs her waking hours with a garbled frequency from that other plane. One that sharpens to a calming focus through the link with Ben, his intermittent presence granting some relief.)

"…keep seeing reminders. During the day. That kind of thing."

Finn hums. "Hard time forgetting?"

"Yeah." She skirts nearer to the heart of it. "Just won't go away."

"Not — not nightmares, though?"

Fuck, this is painfully awkward. Both of them blatantly evading what they really want to say. "Right. They're not like… scary dreams."

"Affecting your rest though?"

Is that what she said? Or suggested? Or —

She mumbles, "Sort of, I…"

A gloom darkens Finn's features. His throat moves as he swallows and Rey interrupts before he has a chance to speak,

"Probably go away in a few days." She refills her coffee from the carafe, breaking the low swell of tension between them. "Forget I said anything —"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." More sugar. More cream. She furrows her brows, nose turned down to her shaking hands. "I'm sure it'll go away."

The table bumps when Finn leans onto it. He suggests gently, "If it doesn't, let me know, I mean —"

Rey's eyes snap up to meet Finn's. Her pulse thuds louder in her ears, noticing the worry tempering his unusually restrained manner. Same look he gave her when she abruptly left his condo before finishing the movie.

"— If you ever need anything, you can —"

"— I know." The forced smile strains her cheeks. "I will."

He doesn't break his gaze. "Well, let me know. Or maybe Maz knows someone down here —"

Rey coughs, springs back into her chair. Her insides lurch with shame despite Finn's good intentions. He is… seriously suggesting she calls her old social worker from Iowa. Despite being over eighteen for five years already. First thing his mind went to when Rey mentioned dreams — assumed it was just the same night terror, even when she tried to distinguish it — not even yet broaching the reality of what's been happening —

She sputters, "W- We're not kids anymore, Finn, I'm not one of her —"

"I'm sure she wouldn't mind hearing from —"

That's not the point. "Okay. Yeah. Thanks —"

"Sorry, I —"

"No, it's not a bad idea." This is going so much worse than she imagined. "Calling Maz if it doesn't go away. It's not, not the same at all though, probably just need to take multivitamins again or —"

"Ham and swiss?"

Thank fuck. Rey spins to smile wider at the server. "Ham and swiss omelette, that's me."

"And southwestern right here…"

Finn barely acknowledges the plate, still watching Rey as she exaggerates her delight with a quick thumbs up. "Looks great."

The waitress replaces the carafe and bids, "Enjoy!"

Rey grabs her utensils immediately, cutting up a couple bites before realizing Finn isn't starting on his. She raises her eyebrows and asks,

"What?"

"I'm sorry if —"

"It's fine," she lies. "Really. I mean it. Forget I said anything, okay?"

"Alright," Finn agrees cautiously.

They eat silently for a few minutes, pretending to savor their meals with some neutral commentary ("tasty" "yeah really fresh eggs" "like the home fries" "bloody mary's good too"). A convertible blaring bass-heavy music pulls into the lot, loud enough to feel in her chest. Rey drops her fork when it shuts off, rushing to fill the silence when Finn looks up again.

"So, uh, have the condo unpacked pretty much?"

"Rose has a few boxes left," Finn says. "Sister pawned a few more on us when we were out there. Bunch of crafts kits and stuff, keep telling her to turn that shit down, but you know how Rose gets…"

Yeah, she does. "Looks great."

Finn finishes the last of his drink. "You liking your new place still?"

"Sure," Rey provides automatically. "Right by the beach. Walk down all the time. Whole point of coming here."

"Living the best life."

"Something like that," Rey sighs. Sounds so juvenile when she hears it aloud. "Still getting used to it. How about you?"

"How about me what?"

"Living your best life?"

Finn grins broadly, leaning back with his hands behind his head. "Yeah, I am." His elbows fan by his ears like wings. "Things are… really good. Yeah."

Rey nods, stuffs her mouth with home fries when a glimmer of inspiration lifts his features. He begins to say something excitedly before shaking his head.

"What?" She quirks her brow again.

"It's nothing —"

"Come on, tell me —"

"No, I —"

He's blushing. Rey insists, "Finn, come on —"

"You're gonna think I'm nuts —"

The chair screeches on the patio when she leans in, nearly falling over onto the table. Same thing she said to Ben yesterday. Briefly her heart leaps with the idea that _maybe_ —

She stares hard at Finn. "Try me."

"Promise to be honest with me. Like if this is a terrible decision, or —"

He pauses when the server returns to clear their plates, glances down to confirm the time on his phone. Declines the offer for a second drink,

"Just the check."

She leaves it with Finn, goes to bus another table. Rey circles her wrist expectantly, urging him to continue. "I'll be honest, you know that."

"Okay, well —"

He inhales deeply, hardly containing his joy.

"— I put a deposit on an engagement ring. Real diamond. Just the deposit, I still have… some time to decide, but —"

Rey slumps into her seat, body going hollow with understanding. Like his admission severed one of the last strings tying it together. The horizon tilts slightly, her blood starting to drain.

"— That's great," she croaks.

"Y- You think so?" Finn asks, seeking her reassurance.

"Sure."

Who is she to tell him otherwise? Rose is crazy about him. Finn is smitten with her. They complement each other well. Less than two years together but she's never seen him so… happy.

"You two are — really great together," she adds lamely. "That… doesn't sound crazy to me."

Finn scans her eyes, then the check. Holds up his hand when Rey reaches for her totebag.

"Let me," he insists, putting his card in the faux leather slip.

Doesn't feel right with Finn though, not after so much time scraping together every penny. She unclips her wallet. "It's okay, really —"

_"Rey."_ He keeps his hand raised. "Let me."

"O- Okay…"

She bites her lip. Any color possibly remaining in her face pales away. His friendly chivalry (like she's some acquaintance) adds insult to injury, the unpleasant reminder that she makes less money than him —

That he's put so much into an adult order since arriving here. Wears a polo to work. Bought his own place. Found a partner. Can afford a _diamond_ engagement ring. Rey remembers when they sat on the empty bleachers at the elementary by their second home, trading hits off a joint and bemoaning the designer sneakers all the assholes at school wore. Feels like not that much time has passed, but… maybe for Finn it has.

He's still beaming like a kid though. "So you don't — think it's too fast? Or —"

Rey shrugs. "Not like you just met last week."

"— I have to think of something really good. For a proposal. Really sweep her off her feet."

The waitress flits by to pick up the check and Rey studies her routined motions around the patio. Her ponytail swings as she pivots to return to the bar to close her tabs. Finn's voice starts to warble, teetering until he repeats her name —

Again. Like he did when they first sat down. "Rey? What do you think?"

"Sounds beautiful." Has no idea what he said. "I'm… really happy for you guys."

"Hopefully she says yes."

"I'm sure she will," Rey replies honestly.

The server returns Finn's card, tells them to have a great day. Hopes they visit again soon. Rey twiddles her thumbs as he scrawls down the tip, humming to himself like he awaits a pleasant afternoon. He stands first and she soon follows, concentrating on not tripping over her own feet.

"Thanks again," Finn says to the waitress as she passes to clear their table. Rey crosses her arms, staying a couple steps behind until they exit to the parking lot. He calls back,

"Going straight to work?"

"Yeah. How about you?"

"Same here." Finn waits for Rey to stop at his side. "You okay for your shift?"

Like she was the one to drink vodka instead of him. "I'm good. Promise."

"Yeah, text me when you make it in." To work. To let him know she's safe. Like they've done forever. "I'll see you later?"

"See ya," Rey returns with a feeble wave.

Her legs still wobble on her way back to the car, her stomach unsettled by the entire meal. Even without a specific picture in mind, somehow it all went so much… _worse_ than she really expected. She fumbles for her carkeys, startles at the sound of an unseen engine a few spaces away. Unlocks her car and waits in the driver's seat, counting her breaths as she spies Finn's Jeep in the rearview mirror. The lamps blink on. He reverses from the spot and drives away, easing _some_ of her nerves but drumming others with —

Frustration. With herself, more than Finn. For losing track of their conversation, for coming off like a child, for failing to address both things that occupied her thoughts her entire ride over here. She didn't mention the forgotten food truck festival. Got nowhere near explaining the… situation with Ben. Came away with a polite recommendation to contact her old social worker (last thing she wants to do is go crying back to Maz). A confirmation of their drifting further apart (planning to propose, for fuck's sake). Did get a free meal, though it's not the consolation it would usually be (should've ordered the banana french toast too).

Rey starts her car. Taps along the steering wheel and rolls down the window. Finn has always been a little awkward with this stuff. She's just misreading and taking it the wrong way, but…

None of that erases the detached air to their conversation. _That's_ the part that bothers her most. Hounds over her repeated reviews of their brunch during the short trip to her work. The breeze is stronger on the beach, sticking stray bits of hair to her cheeks and lips. She ducks into the backroom before attracting greetings from any coworkers. Stows her bag in her locker, strings an apron around her waist. Lingers in the bathroom, examining herself under the harsh white light that washes out her face.

Rey raises her chin, confirms no marks are visible on her neck. Pulls aside the jersey collar of her uniform shirt to inspect the bruise fading on her skin. She does look tired, the shitty lighting emphasizing the hairline creases on her eyelids from interrupted sleep. Mascara's decent. She globs on some tinted lip gloss.

"You got this," she recites aloud. She's pulled through far more uncertain days plenty of times before. Just another middle shift.

Not even busy when she clocks in. Most of the hours are spent turning over the bar for the nighttime crowd, prepping ingredients and rolling kegs around from storage. A large group of surfers in wetsuits sidle up for awhile, but the crowd stays mostly sparse. Rey passes time by perfecting every repetitive motion, all of it flowing with a certain… symmetry she can't place. A familiarity without any deja vu.

_Comes with being a professional,_ she quips internally.

(Even though it feels like something more. Approaching a boundary she struggles to identify and name.)

Kaydel is there, mentions nothing about the other day — maintains her clipped on-the-clock manner, bubbles with occasional laughter and snarky groans. She clocks out halfway through Rey's shift. Takes a seat at the bar and scrolls her phone, knocks the surface with her fist when Rey shelves clean glasses a couple feet away.

"Hey bartender," she greets cheerfully.

Rey clears the last row, sets down the empty rack. Wipes her hands with a rag, stuffs it in her back pocket. "What's up?"

No request for a refill on her flask with customers there. Kaydel zips away her cell in her fanny pack and shrugs. "Same old. How are you?"

Rey bites the inside of her cheek. "Same here."

"You feeling okay?"

"Yeah, I'm —"

(Nearly cringes being asked a second time today.)

"— I'm fine," Rey answers. "You closing tomorrow too?"

"Day after."

"I'll see ya then."

Rey spots a patron flagging her down in her periphery. Steps away to close his tab, surprised to see Kaydel stay. Returns to her perch and says,

"You, uh, heading out anywhere?"

"Later, maybe." Kaydel mouths _goodbye_ to a regular that waves to her on his way to the exit, turns back to Rey. "You sure you're feeling okay?"

"Yeah. Just needed to catch up on sleep."

Kaydel bobs her head as she nods, not believing her entirely. "Text me if you're around later?"

"Sure." She won't be. Not with closing tomorrow on top of everything with Finn and Ben. "Probably just going home."

Kaydel hops down from the barstool, adjusts her pack with a wink. "Well, if you change your mind."

Rey watches her leave, frowning at the literal spring in her steps as she goes. Has trouble lifting her own arms & feet, but manages to guide herself to the end of her day with only a couple absentminded errors and one spilled drink. She collects her tips and hurries her items together in the backroom, avoiding the other staff before she's cornered into more hours from someone calling in late. Fresh air whips her face when she escapes through the sidedoor, clears the stuffy stale scent of chemical cleaners and beer. Dusk already darkens the horizon, purpling the sun's last glow on the ocean shore.

Rey ignores the picturesque scenery. Beelines to her car, peels out of the lot, and instantly misses her turn.

She groans circling the block through the main drag of town, waiting for clumps of pedestrians at the crosswalks. Stopping short for some idiot who tosses his friend's boogie board into the street. The traffic thins a quarter-mile up from the beach. All the carports are vacant beneath her stilted house when Rey parks her coupe. Accidentally elbows the horn and drops her keys on the floor.

"Ah, fuck —"

She kicks them under the chair. Uses her phone as a flashlight to extricate them with some effort, stands up and dusts sand off her knees. The long staircase creaks beneath her steps as she ascends. A fire engine wails several miles off, siren drawing nearer as she reslings her bag on her shoulder and struggles with the front door.

The lock keeps slipping. "What the…"

Rey tries the knob. Glances up to see the wrong number and bolts away to her apartment, heart racing again. It opens easily and she grumbles crossing the threshold, leaving her bags on the couch. Kicks her shoes off towards the closet, soles clapping the wall next to it instead.

She flips on the lights and pokes her head into the bathroom and bedroom to confirm she's alone. Strips off her socks and tee into the hamper, leaving on her shorts and dark bra. Flops onto her bed and covers her face with her hands.

Ending her day where she started, staring at her ceiling with no idea what to do. Her feet patter on the mattress as she inhales deeply through her nose to steady her pulse. No longer too busy to ignore that whisper nudging her thoughts:

_…Left behind again._

She should be happy for Finn instead of mourning their friendship. Egging him on to make his grand proposal, offering to help plan a hypothetical wedding, demanding he report back sooner rather than later, or…

Something besides this dull disenchantment.

(And distant jealousy.)

She rolls out of bed. Pulls on a simple floral tank with thick straps and low-cut collar, loose along the bottom to conceal the fraying hem of her work shorts. Replaces the bulb in her lamp, flicks it on to leave her bedroom half-lit. No sign of Ben's presence the night before.

**thump**

Her spine bolts straight hearing a weight collapse in the other room. She halts her breaths, freezes in position. Tries to listen through her blood rushing her ears.

A pair of thuds follow, heels bumping on a hard floor.

She exhales slowly, paling with recognition. Should've anticipated her long day continuing instead of being granted any reprieve. Has no script prepared for seeing Ben, too thrown by her backfired plan to reveal their link to Finn.

— But she isn't really worried.

(Her stomach flutters eagerly.)

Rey plucks the coin from the floor, nestles it back with her conch shells on the dresser. Pockets her cell phone and half-ties her hair to frame her cheekbones. Ben's muffled noises continue and she mouths in the mirror,

_Just walk in._

Heeds her own words and marches out to find Ben slumped on the kitchenette floor. He leans against the cabinet below the sink, knees bent with his head back reciting something silently with his eyes closed. His powder blue shirt is crisp and new, his trousers pressed neat and clean. Black dress shoes scuffed and dull at the sides and toes. His long limbs make him seem too large for his post.

_Totally oblivious to her being there._

Rey tries to follow his lips but can't read what he's saying. She crosses her arms, approaches with precise strides to make no sound. Ben wrings his enormous hands, displaying his grandfather's ring prominently. The inlaid jade glints under her kitchenette's fluorescent lighting that further pales his skin.

"Hey," Rey whispers, crouching a few inches from his feet.

No response. She scoots closer and tries again,

"Hey… Ben?"

"Hi," he murmurs, lolling his chin down to meet her eyes.

Several seconds pass. She blabs the first phrase that comes to mind, "H- How are you?"

"Been better." He drops his hands to his sides. "Just… hanging out."

"On the floor?"

"Comfortable down here," he replies. "Give it a try. Might like it too."

Rey rolls her eyes. "We'll see."

She sets her phone on the counter and plants herself on the tiles anyway, hugs her legs against her chest. Ben sighs and twists the band of his ring, resettling in his seat.

"Am I interrupting —"

"No," she rushes. "Nothing at all."

Another pause. Ben studies her features a little too long, his own souring as he asks,

"Can you…"

He gestures for Rey to move. She checks over her shoulder towards the sofa, notices nothing unusual in the living room.

She raises her eyebrows. "Is there —"

He turns away. "Half of you is in the island. In the kitchen —"

"Oh, sorry, I —"

"Don't be." Their own self-deprecating custom. "It's just… distracting."

Rey covers her teeth with her lips, crawls out of the unseen furniture to join Ben. She sits against the next cabinet, several inches from his side. Crosses her legs at the ankles and keeps her eyes averted from his.

"No island in my kitchen," she remarks. "Just the one big room."

"Yeah."

Rey slouches in her spot, turns to observe Ben in profile. He rotates the band on his finger, dark hair hiding most of his face. Stretches his feet to match her posture, failing to conceal a slight tremble in his hands. Hunched on his kitchen floor like a weakened beast.

She inches over hesitantly. "Are you…"

And reaches over to tuck the stray locks behind his ear. He repeats,

"I've been better" without any elaboration.

Rey swallows hard, unsure how to proceed with their positions reversed. "Did you want to —"

Ben flinches when she places her palm on his shoulder. She springs back like it burns, not intending to overstep.

"Sorry, I didn't mean —"

He twists to catch her wrist, squeezes gently as she gasps.

"— It's okay," he insists, lowering his voice. "I don't really want to talk about it though."

He guides her hand to his lap, covers it beneath his own. Holds it lightly, turning it over between his palms. Brushes her with his thumb, striping an echo that dwindles into her wrist. The ring feels dull and doesn't burn, some degrees cooler than his skin.

Rey says, "Are you sure? I can be a good listener too. If you —"

"I'm sure." There's a beat. "Nothing you… need to be bothered with."

She squeaks, "It's not a bother —"

"Rey, it's nothing you can —"

Her insides lurch as he tightens his grip on her hand, prompted by the memory of logging his name into database searches only _yesterday_. She wrenches it from his lap, chest tightening with a surge of doubt.

"Are y- you hiding something from me? Or —"

His mouth drops below his glare. "No, fuck, I —"

Ben starts getting up and her heartbeat speeds. Rey flings forward to clutch his arm and yank him back down to sit, eyes widening desperately,

"You don't have to go, I…"

He grunts and flops beside her, bumping his head on the cabinet as she sidles closer. Rey repositions to press her body against his, resting her temple on his bicep and reaching for his hand again.

"Ben, I didn't mean to —"

He bristles, "I get it. I don't expect you to trust me."

"It's not that." Even though it is. "Don't take it personally, I… barely know you. That's all."

_Didn't stop you last night,_ she chides herself internally. Maybe she imagines the phrase sucking all the air from the room, but the silence that follows is thick enough to sting. 

"You have good reason not to," he admits. "Trust me. I wouldn't if I was you either."

Another pause. He goes on,

"— I just don't want to talk about it right now, okay? Been dealing with it for hours and don't want to ruin the only thing I've looked forward to all day."

She blinks. "The only thing —"

"Seeing you."

Her throat dries. "I —"

"Only thing going right for me lately."

Rey forces her mouth closed, flustered by his candor. Looked forward to seeing her all day… _Probably the only person who does at all anymore._ Anticipation clouds her suspicion with quick explanations —

(Her rational suspicion, she reminds herself, discarding it for that rush again.)

"You're — not going back to prison, are you?"

"What?" He grimaces. "No, nothing like that —"

"Is someone dead? Or dying?"

"No, I —"

"So… how bad can it be?"

Her sentence ends on a higher pitch than intended. Ben exhales, seems to gaze at the wildlife posters on the one wall. He chooses his reply carefully,

"A lot of people losing their jobs."

"Oh."

That's pretty bad.

"…And they have to hear it from me. Even though I had nothing to do with it."

"Oh," she repeats lamely.

"Like I said, would rather not —"

"It's okay. You… you don't have to."

Rey bites her lip, peeks up at Ben before resting her head on his shoulder again. His hands are rough from work like hers, the same patches coarser from the extra years. The strange sensation kindles in the spaces where their skin meets, fainter through his long-sleeved shirt — hushes her doubt to just… enjoy feeling at ease with his quiet company. The sky darkens through the windows. The ceiling fan whirrs like a sentry. His presence seems so real in her empty apartment, solid and clear — 

It's peaceful, having these moments to pretend she's not alone.

"Nice seeing you too," she attempts.

"Thanks."

"Were you… wearing that before I came in?" Rey unlaces her fingers to poke his ring.

"Yeah, couple hours now," he mumbles. "Don't think it did anything."

"Did you… try anything?"

"Not really."

"I got home not too long ago, maybe it doesn't go off until… I don't know," Rey sighs. "We don't know anything."

"Doesn't go off until what?" Ben prompts.

"Unless we're alone. Maybe."

"Could be."

The phone buzzes on the counter above their heads. Rey points up,

"Did you hear that?"

"…No?"

She untangles herself from Ben, scurries clumsily to her feet. "My phone just went off, um —"

Rey stops before finishing the thought.

A text from Finn: _are you okay?_

Never messaged him when she got to work. First time forgetting in years, since before moving down here. Not even intentionally —

"Is everything alright?" Ben asks, looking up at her from the floor.

"Y- Yeah, it's fine." Her thumbs are unsteady typing out her reply,

_yea im at home. sry. busy day. have a good night_

Finn responds immediately: _you too_

"— You sure?" Ben checks.

"Yeah." Rey itches her arm distractedly, leaves her phone unlocked. Pulls up her call screen. "Maybe we should…"

And holds it out to Ben. He narrows his eyes, examining it curiously like he did the baseball bat.

She clears her throat. "Plan a test?"

"Right." He shakes his head, roused from his thoughts. "Yeah."

His hands eclipse most of her phone, his shoulders slouch dialing his own number. Rey stays standing, leaning with one elbow on the counter. Dangles her other hand to mess his hair, running her nails along his scalp.

"Here you go," he announces, passing the device back over his head. She plucks it from his grasp, twists awkwardly to set it down. Ben shifts beneath her,

"Come here —"

Rey startles instinctively when he hugs her knees to clutch her close, presses his cheek against her bare thigh. She nearly topples over, whacks his chin regaining her balance,

"Shit, are you —"

"I'm fine." His breath heats her skin, his palms coast up her legs. "Really."

She nods, limbs wobbling as she lowers to join him on the floor. He tugs her gently,

"Come here…"

And she lets him pull her onto his lap, circling her waist to lay with her back against his chest. She wiggles to find a comfortable position, bumping against his hips. His palms span her middle, drum along her torso and flicker that echo underneath. Ben deepens his breaths, her body slacking in his embrace —

"What's your theory?" Ben murmurs, his pants shifting obviously. "About the ring."

(His mouth is only inches from her ear, his deep voice rumbles through her ribs.)

He feathers his nose in her hair as she watches his hands, studying the band's uneven lustre. "That it… keeps the link active. You were wearing it the one time you found me in two rooms."

"I was?"

"Yeah, that was the only time. I think."

Ben taps her stomach like he tries to remember. "Could it open the connection too?"

"Maybe? You said before it didn't — didn't think it did anything."

"Worth testing."

"Yeah. We don't have much else to go on."

Ben hums, "And I don't mind you visiting me."

Rey smirks as he kisses her head. "Can't get rid of me anyways —"

Her breath hitches when he snakes under her shirt, rests his palm below her bra. He presses down softly, spurring the static to dance over her skin.

"— Don't want to just yet, Rey."

He speaks low and very near, drawing a stripe along her underwire. Her exhale shudders unconsciously as she squirms on his lap, growing more aware of his _contact_ and _proximity_. His idle hand flinches down as she relaxes onto his hips, fingertips brushing her inner thighs.

Ben whispers, "Did you have somewhere to be?"

"No… not right now."

"Me neither."

The edge in his tone winds the tension between her legs. Meshes to his touch's warmth as he skims higher to feel her heart, palm cupping her breast. Her apartment seems like someone else's from the kitchenette floor, watching the living room and front door as Ben's chest lifts her gently. Rey closes her eyes, tries to slow her thudding pulse —

"Are you thinking about it too?" he asks.

"A- About what?"

(Even though she knows what he means.)

"Last night."

Rey smiles thinly, energy running down her spine. "Could be."

She is — daydreaming about the echo pooling to ease her around his fingers, his tongue crooking to simmer the warmth in her cunt, the way he urged her to continue and marveled at her body —

The hand on her leg drops inward. Creeps towards the same boundary they crossed yesterday, inexorably changing the landscape between them. Rey tightens her thighs and he holds her closer,

"I think you are."

He scoops under her bra to squeeze her tit, rolling to bounce her against his cock. Rey snickers,

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

Ben slides his hands to meet at the band of her shorts, unbuttoning the fly. "I already do."

"Do you?" Her attempt to be coy is hardly convincing.

"Yeah." He finds the zipper. "You're shaking."

She blinks. "A- Am I?"

Her drawers loosen. Ben trails lower behind her underwear. "A little bit." He stops his fingers in her hair, loses his words. "Rey —"

(Definitely notices she trimmed this morning.)

"You made your cunt pretty just for me?"

Rey blushes, recalls debating his reaction in the shower. Imagines his expression now, wishes she can see his face as he shudders,

"Can I see?"

She nods and his hand descends, pressing towards her entrance. Her eyes shut and she relaxes against his chest, inhales sharply when his digits nudge her clit. He swipes over the hood, her legs parting wider feeling the reverberation. His rough fingerprints trace down and up her slit, smearing her arousal on her nub.

"Ben —"

She breathes into his motions, drowsy with his arms surrounding her and pinning her to his torso. The darkness behind her eyelids makes his size seem larger, his scent seem stronger. She rocks on his lap, grinding against his cock.

"You like that, Rey?"

"Y- Yeah…"

He dips into her opening with a slick noise. She tilts her hips to bring him deeper, to draw his contact's warmth further inside her. He clutches her close, pushes harder and urges her to continue,

"Wet just thinking about it?"

"I —" she starts. He curls his fingertips. "_Fuck_ —"

"I like that… You have a long day too?"

Ben rewraps his free arm, pushing harshly enough for Rey to whimper as she nods. He withdraws to spread her mess over her clit, circling to short the reaction through her nerves.

"You seem really sensitive," he comments, kissing her head again. "All soaked and swollen for me already —"

He stops himself from saying something. Ben slots back inside her and she sways to increase the friction. Her hips meet his rhythm, her seat becoming more lumpy as he stiffens quickly. The heel of his palm brushes her clit, she clenches down from the flare it sends. 

And her heart pounds, captained by that part of her that wants him to keep admiring her aloud…

"Yes," she chokes. "Do you —"

He shifts his idle hand, the ring's band unusually cool. His nails dig into her side. "Do I what, Rey?"

She gulps. "D- Do you like it?"

"Like what?" he growls. "Your pretty little cunt?"

"Yes —"

"Of course I do —"

Ben crowds a third finger in. Her eyes widen and thighs flinch open farther. She starts to tremble, moaning with the strain. Remembers how much he seemed to like hearing his name —

"Ben… It's so much —"

"Fuck, you're so wet," he babbles. "I want to be inside you so badly —"

(And she knows she shouldn't say it. Should insist they evaluate the idea before going further. But —)

"I- I want it too, Ben —"

He grunts into her neck, she rolls faster to rub on his cock. Simmers the echo to hear his tiny noises pour in her ear, just as swept into whatever's happening as she is.

**more**

Her shorts are bunched in the middle of her thighs, her underwear rolled aside into a damp strip. His tip keeps poking her ass, his pants tent unevenly. Her cheeks are hot, shining red from the image of shaking on her kitchen floor alone. Displaying herself for the empty living room and scratching thighs that aren't there. Blood rushes too loud in her ears to hear anything else, increasing her awareness of his ring. Cold and firm on the hand beneath her shirt…

The contrast jolts Rey from her daze. "Maybe we should —"

"Anything," Ben replies before hearing the rest.

She hesitates, internally rehearsing those phrases she _should_ say — failing to regain her bearings, dismissing any prudence for the thrill of discovery —

"Go to the other…"

His firm tone wavers slightly. "The bedroom?"

Another nod. She tenses to churn the warmth as he exits, shivering when the reaction dissipates. Ben wipes his hand on her leg and says,

"…Alright."

He bumps the cabinet as Rey slides awkwardly onto the floor, hiking up her shorts. She leaves them unbuttoned, turns to watch Ben adjust his trousers.

"I'll… go first?" she suggests.

He grits his teeth, confirms he's still wearing the ring. "Yeah," he agrees. "I'll meet you there."

She struggles to rise to her feet, wobbles to balance on the counter. Ben sweeps behind her, reaches to spin her around and pull her in for a kiss. Her lips ignite with little pins, his grip stings her arms pleasantly. She slides her hands beneath his shirt, trails down to unzip his fly. He disconnects to inch his pants lower, their movements becoming more confused. 

"Rey, we can just —"

She stands on her toes to hold his cheeks and taste him again, feels his cock tapping her body urgently. Pushes him away with a grin.

"A- Another test," she teases.

Ben frowns. "Do I pass?"

Not what she meant, but she plays along. Rey ducks out of his embrace and pecks his bicep,

"Top marks so far."

She walks backwards to her bedroom, glancing over her shoulder before meeting Ben's eyes with a wink. He doesn't seem convinced, tilting his head as he studies her steps.

"You're something else," he tells her, like yesterday. "Just…"

He lets the thought idle. Her mind races with possibility, recalling how he yanked her hair to hold her in place. The marks he left with his teeth. And she insists to herself she shouldn't cross this final line with him — too reckless, too emotional, too unknown — 

"Ben, if I see you there… I…"

_But she really really wants to anyway._

Her voice creaks:

"…I promise I'll be good for you."

There's a beat.

He murmurs, "You'll…"

His gaze darkens when it clicks into place.

She reaches the door and leans on its frame. Wonders if Ben sees her shaking now like he said he did before. If she blends into the wall or furniture. If she looks as small & cornered as she feels even from a distance, her apartment spinning and strange.

"I'll hold you to that," Ben warns.

_Don't say it —_

She smiles. "I hope so."

And darts into her bedroom. All the air levels like the connection severed, dry when she gasps for breath. Rey peels off her shirt, her shorts drop to her ankles. Removes her last clothing, grimacing when she touches her underwear. Hurries to smooth her sheets, throws her pillows to the top of the bed. She kneels in the middle of the mattress and holds her breath…

Silence.

Rey tunes her ears to the empty apartment, heart dropping to her stomach. Insists she needed these seconds to recenter her bearings, to talk herself out of her desire — to give herself one last out by leaving the final decision to a metaphysical lottery.

Ben will appear if it's meant to happen.

**thump**

…Right on cue.

Footsteps trail across the ceiling on the roof, starting further away than they should. She pales with realization as they grow louder and drop into the living room. Drum across the floor to approach her door, raising in pitch like he's climbing stairs.

"Please fucking be there," Ben implores. Clear enough for her to hear. Afraid she'll disappear.

About to find her naked on top of the covers waiting for him instead. She reconsiders where to place her hands, blows away a lock of hair —

"You're…"

Rey looks up. Ben seems taller than he is in the doorframe, shirt unbuttoned and falling open. He freezes, looms at the entrance of her lamp-lit room. Casts a long shadow across her floor, gawking at her body — shocked and scattered like he doesn't know where to focus first.

"You're here," he manages. "It worked."

"Yeah. It — It did."

Rey straightens her shoulders, corrects her posture and sits back on her heels. She inhales deeply to raise her tits, nipples hardened by the cool cycled air. He crosses the threshold, treads carefully towards her.

"Here you are."

"Here I am," she recites with a playful shrug.

There's a pause. Ben stops at the end of the bed, studies Rey peering up at him from below. She drops her hands to her sides, better displaying her cunt.

_This is such a bad idea, but…_ His fascinated stare is captivating. That sensation through their connection is so fucking crazy, coupled with his size and intensity and —

Ben tenses his jaw. "Already being really good. Just like you promised."

(And that voice, striking to surface every nerve.)

Rey bites behind her lip.

He goes on. "Are you still wet?"

Her cheeks beat red. "M- Maybe —"

"Show me."

Another long slow breath. Rey reseats herself on the bed, unfolds her legs straight and wiggles her toes. His shirt comes off, vanishing before it hits the floor. She wrings her hands in her lap, sheepish for him to detect how excited she really is —

"Show me," he repeats.

Rey scoots against the pillows, walks her fingers down her thighs and bends her knees. Tilts back to part her legs, increasingly flustered by his wolfish gaze. Her entrance is slick, feels fuzzy as she spreads wider. Ben tosses something from his pocket onto the sheets, disappearing before she identifies what it is.

He leans to rest his palms on the bed. The mattress dips.

"More," he prompts.

Rey holds her breath, concentrates on maintaining eye contact. Repositions her feet to drape a hand between her thighs, lets it hover by her opening. She trails a finger along her seam, grinding her teeth as she traces higher. Exhales carefully when she circles her swollen clit and asks,

"Like this?"

He breaks first, peering down at her cunt to study her motions.

"Perfect," he replies.

She builds quickly presenting her arousal, excited by his eager attempts to maintain his composure. He fumbles to find his trousers and briefs, loses his place pulling them to the floor. 

"Be good when I check too," he bids.

Ben climbs onto the bed, crawls between her legs. He grabs one her knees, lowering to creep nearer to her entrance. Rey shifts her wrist, changes her movement with a quiet moan.

"J- Just like that," Ben says, barely tempering his disbelief.

His broad frame blocks most of her view of the room. He drifts his knuckles against her slit, pressing in when she clenches underneath. His cock points like a blade, hard & ready to take her — and Rey reminds herself gently — 

_Don't think about it right now. It's just us here._

"Ben…"

"You always get this heated?" He unfurls his fingers, wetting the tips. "Or is it special just for me?"

(A little bit of both, but she doesn't reply either way.)

His mouth drops slipping a pair inside, making a sloppy noise. She winds onto his intrusion, flinching from the static and soaking his hand. He pushes deeper and murmurs,

"You're being so good, Rey…"

Her heels crease the sheets as she squirms, starting to beg,

"Please —"

She whines when he crowds a third finger in, slumping onto the pillows to spread wider. Ben wriggles closer, entranced by how her features pinch.

"Are you on anything?"

It takes a second. "I- I have an IUD."

Another sloppy sound when he withdraws to gloss her wetness over his length. He clambers for something beside her and a wrapped condom appears in his hand. She rubs her clit again, distracting his focus by rocking her hips.

(No stopping it now. This is really happening —)

"Be patient," he tuts.

She replies before thinking. "I don't want to —"

He finishes rolling on the sheath. "I knew I liked you."

And Ben stops hesitating. Lunges to yank her down the mattress, clasping her roughly enough to bruise. He pounces to cage her in, balancing above her on his palms and observing her face intently. His tip bumps as he lines up with her entrance, his cheeks ruddied and hollow —

Rey knows the look he has should scare her, but right now she's too turned on to think —

She whispers, "Please…"

Ben sinks into her slowly, silencing her word into a gentle moan. He chokes on her name, squeezes his eyes shut,

"Rey —"

All of her tenses around his cock as she gasps. He feels huge splitting her and webbing the reaction further into her cunt. She digs her fingers into his skin,

"Ohmygod —"

Groans and wilts under his weight, shivering as he fills her gently to memorize every added inch. The echo beats with a novel friction even through the condom, heightens every sensation with a spike down her veins. He blurts,

"So fucking tight —"

and bottoms out, grunting inelegantly when he starts to move. She holds herself open behind her knees, settles around his length. Her thighs clap against his hips, rolling to churn the reverberation.

"More," she cries.

Ben tackles her to the bed, catches her roving hands to pin them beside her ears. He flattens her to the mattress, reangling to thrust faster and make the bedsprings squeak.

"It's — It's so —"

Rey squeals without exaggeration, fidgeting to cinch him further. His flesh touches hers everywhere, prickling with the connection's heat. He grips her wrists roughly, her fingers tingling numb.

"Ben, I —"

He releases her and covers her mouth with his, kissing her fervently like he'll never have a chance again. He pants into her neck, licks the shell of her ear,

"So good for me, Rey —"

He crushes her more, burying her with his cock and body and making it hard to breathe. He fits her snug and solid, fucking her hard and fast as she scratches his shoulderblades. His sweat mazes down her tits, her sounds grow more ragged and he asks breathlessly,

"Come nice and loud for me again?"

Rey groans and arches in response. Her nails trail down his back, leaving marks and burrowing sharply enough in some spots to draw blood. The static intensifies and phases through their skin, flooding below her stomach and into her cunt as she rushes closer to her end.

"You're — gonna — make me come s- so hard —" Rey whines, ears ringing with that strange high note again.

(She feels too incredible to be frightened. Too well-fucked to care.)

"That's it," he hums.

Rey closes her eyes to hide his face, her own flushing with mortification and exertion. She sits up slightly, barely hears her own plea,

"M- More —"

Ben snaps. He folds her knees to her chest, pumping deep and rough to lock them in. His pelvis bumps her clit, bulbed and sensitive to his contact. He bunches her hair in his fist, pulls her head back to kiss her neck.

"Taking me so good," he rambles. "So good inside your pretty little cunt —"

And sucks the same bruised spot by her collar until she smacks his arm from the sting. He bites her shoulder and earlobe, warmth blooming where he uses his teeth. Rey slots him inward, wincing as he taps her cervix and groans,

"I'm so close —"

The bedframe knocks into the wall, scrapes against the floor. He curses and mutters to himself, features twisted with determination, totally absorbed in staving himself off. A sharp tension thickens the energy woven behind his touch, swelling the echo to seal her full. Rey doesn't recognize her sounds, harsh and shameless like someone else makes them.

"Want to come all over your cock — want to —"

Neither of them will last much longer like this, completely lost in their connection. Hurrying and grinding urgently to amplify the intensity, sweating and panting with a primitive drive. The tone in her ears screeches to a higher pitch, muffling his shaking words,

"Come real hard with me inside you —"

The noise vibrates to silence everything but them, tricking her into believing they're all that exists. She drowns in his scent, soaks heavily down his length. And it feels too _right_ to be a mistake, too overwhelming to be alarming. Ben loses his balance, collapsing into her contorted figure and knocking the wind from her lungs.

"Fuck, Rey, I can't —"

"Ah, I- I'm —"

He fixes her to the mattress, keeping her down as she ruts and bobs on his cock to fit him where she needs it most. Her limbs jerk and tremble, all of her narrowing tight as she teeters towards climax.

"Oh god, Ben, I —"

"Such a good girl — coming so loud for me —"

And she does, stressing every gasp & syllable of her orgasm and heeding his implicit command. Her lust surges her veins and swarms her senses with a supernatural intensity. It overtakes all her rationality, slaps away every misgiving about trusting this other-worldly feeling. Rey heaves into her final motions, working her cunt into his base and leaking on the sheets.

Ben groans, "So fucking _tight_ —"

He pumps strong enough for her cunt to ache, hitting into her terminus as he unloads inside the sheath. His climax boosts hers with a flash of static, whips even with the barrier between them to strike a higher sensitivity. The bed slams the wall once more before Ben crumples on top of her, sighing into her hair and tasting her lips as he spills heavily. Rey's breaths skip as she comes down, clenching hard when she hears his scattered words,

"Good girl — So good for me —"

(Fuck, she loves to hear him say it, wants to hear him adore her again and again — even if it's just a product of desire, even though he probably doesn't mean it —)

"…Such a good girl for me." He kisses her temple, rolling his hips.

The last threads of energy unspool pleasantly. Rey stares at her ceiling fan over Ben's shoulder, the stark color and white noise reminding her where she is — startling her into remembering that he isn't even really there. But her thighs are slick with release, the blankets stick to her legs. And she shudders as he exits her body, aware of every tiny bump & shiver feeling him leave.

"Holy shit," Rey says, "I…"

Have never come that hard. Have never been fucked so full. Have never experienced anything that that before.

He kneels up, distractedly glancing at her as he unrolls the condom. Grimacing when some drips but she can't see it on her sheets. His face shines with perspiration, he scratches his head and shrugs casually,

"Well, that was…" He smirks catching her eyes. "That was fucking amazing."

His expression is soft and stunned like he found her in a dream. He climbs off the bed gingerly, checking back every other motion to confirm she's there. Looks goofy standing naked by her bed, awkwardly dangling the used sheath in his hand.

"Yeah." Rey smiles. "Really good. Almost scary."

His brows furrow, the offhand remark giving him pause. Ben clears his throat, wiggles the finger wearing the ring.

"Just… stay there." He gestures to the bed. "Don't — Don't go yet."

"I won't."

Ben nods and leaves the room. Rey watches the open door as he disappears from view. Their smell lingers in the air. Damp spots stain her crumpled sheets. One of her pillows is on the floor. Another siren wails faraway like earlier, stirring her to remember the entire mess she let herself forget before.

_This is unusual. This is dangerous. They should be asking questions instead of grinning like idiots. They should —_

Ben's footsteps remain audible, act as a percussion to her racing thoughts. They clop away some yards before circling back immediately. Rey smiles seeing his hurried expression when he returns.

"You're still here," he announces simply.

"Worked again."

"It did."

Rey bites her lip, pulls back the blankets. "You want to —"

"Yes," he replies unthinkingly.

Despite the overzealous response, Rey is relieved. Ben flops onto her mattress, bouncing the springs as he settles into position with a blissful sigh. He lies on his side, drapes an arm across her waist to hold her close.

"You're incredible," he murmurs.

This time she doesn't protest. "You… you too."

"Did I pass?" he inquires, clutching her tighter.

Rey scoots to face him. "Pass?"

Ben rubs her shoulder, traces his fingers down her lines & curves. "Your test."

She scrunches her features with feigned determination. Wiggles to press against him and pecks the tip of his nose.

"Yes." Rey pulls back with a thin smile. "Top marks."

"Good. I can barely move," he admits, tucking a clump of her loose hair behind her ear.

The small apartment feels odd and cold, darker than it should in the lamplight. Clouds cover the moon outside, blanketing the patch of sky out of the window to a deeper pitch. But after so many days of worry and foreboding — after hours of fretting her station, her friendships, her years-old decision to move here —

It's… nice, just **being** with Ben. She nuzzles his skin, squirms to tuck herself small and rests her head on his chest. The warmth slows her pulse, eases the soreness in her cunt.

She peeks up at his face, eyes closed with a lopsided grin. For some moments Rey tries to imagine what he sees. Pictures her presence brightening a barren lonely room not unlike her own. She inhales slowly, places her palm on his heart and hears him tell her,

"You're perfect."

Rey knows it isn't true but decides she wants to believe it. It's exactly what she wants to hear. And right now the rest doesn't matter, dwindles away with the gentle reverberation beating through their connection. His embrace is calming, more than it probably should be — 

_Later…_

His breaths grow slow and weary, their rhythm lulling her to a silent peace. The walls melt and Rey drifts into another forgotten dream.

She can't remember the last time she fell asleep next to someone else.

Rest comes to her easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [SaveTheSpaceWhales](https://archiveofourown.org/users/awishman) and [weddersins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weddersins) for beta reading and for your friendship 😘
> 
> Reylos: Thank you so much for making these past couple years such an adventure + Thank you for reading these little stories along the way. I am very grateful for this experience and appreciate you very much.
> 
> See you all on the other side 💞
> 
> Links ☆ [Force Bond Metaphysics](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/theselittlethings_sw_oneshots) (canonverse oneshots collection) ~ [The Black Forest](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14400549/chapters/33255489) (completed longread; a spooky sexy dark post-TLJ story) ~ [Works Page](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theselittlethings/works)
> 
> Find me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/theselittlefics) xoxo


End file.
